The Boy Who Stands Still
by KenRik
Summary: As she competes professionally, Sakuno gauges the unlikely dynamic between herself and her trainer, Ryoma Echizen. RyoSaku. TomoKai. COMPLETED.
1. Prologue

Disclaimer: I do not own the Prince of Tennis.

* * *

Sakuno breathes out and spins the handle of her racket with her sweaty, calloused hands. Her usually flimsy doe eyes narrow and focus on her opponent at the other end of the court. The deafening cheers and screams fall mute to her ears. Even the ceaseless drumming in her chest fails to reach her. To the girl, there is nothing but the neon tennis ball bouncing quickly from her opponent's hand to the hot clay ground, and back.

 _Pok_ —

 _Pok_ —

 _Pok_ , it went.

She breathes out again. A single tear of sweat trickles down the side of her sun-kissed face.

Then, with a raise of a hand, the ball flew to the sky, nearly covering the shape of the morning sun, and is quickly hit to her direction in one graceful and fluid motion.

In that same instant, Sakuno is off to her feet; the ball entering her side of the court. She grunted as she caught it squarely on the sweetspot of her racket - the ball spinning sharp and fast into the opposite end of the court, expertly garnering her first win in the day's tournament.

Cries exploded and she looks to the crowd in a dazed expression, one of disbelief more than tire.

Overwhelmed, she loses herself in the moment; deafened by the sea of cheers and applause. Behind her, a large hand rests on her shoulder and makes her turn. Doe eyes find sharp almond ones coupled with a boyish smirk. The handsome young man's lips part; and he utters in his odd blend of pride and condescension, a congratulatory yet coy "Mada mada dane."

She starts smiling even as he said this, knowing fully well how far they've come. Today's win, she'd like to believe, was the start of many.

* * *

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The Boy Who Stands Still

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* * *

TBC.

Basic facts, before story-reveal:

Manga!Sakuno, Aged 17 (Birthday on Jan 14), Attending 3rd-Year of High School, member of the tennis club, good school grades, looking to get into university, is on the her first game in the finals (one of the final eight) after winning in the eliminations, Ryoma started coaching her only when he got back to Tokyo after his win - prepping her for her first game in the finals round.

Ryoma, Aged 16 (Birthday is on the 24 December - no year, decided for him to be born the same year as Sakuno), homeschool-ed or taking a one-year break for the competition he just won, youngest Grand Slam title holder, popularity spiked after his win although he was already popular internationally before (during his debut in the professional field), lives in LA, California and decided to visit Tokyo a few weeks after his win, after things settled.

 **AUTHOR'S NOTE:**

I know. Re-writing AGAIN. You don't have to read it again. The tone and the overall plot is still the same. I've just never been satisfied with my execution. I want to honor the message of the story with good writing. So, here I am, editing the story for the nth time. The only good thing about this is that this is going to be my last edit. I swear. I've all the material for the story. And I've fixed the progression. It's way WAY WAYYY better now. The scenes make more sense. The romance and heartbreak is more - crisp. And the *twist* is more painful and tender.

Some of the scenes I've written prior felt forced. The dialogue too. Especially given the background of the story. And the ending - I didn't like the ending. Not one bit. It was OK. But at the end of the day, I wasn't satisfied with it.

Ryoma and Sakuno's characters will be more pronounced in this edit. Tomoka and Kaidoh's relationship will be given more limelight. And Momoshiro's side story is now better integrated into the fic. I've removed a bunch of scenes that didn't seem to go with the story. And I'm having a different ending all together.

I really like this story a whole lot because of how real it is. Insecurity is no joke. Coming of age is a gut-wrenching yet beautiful process.

If you're a new reader, welcome and enjoy the fic! It's not a fluffy fic where you have one-dimensional characters. This will be a rollecoaster ride of coming of age. And I'm rather excited.

Thanks for dropping by,

KenRik.


	2. Chapter One

Disclaimer: I do not own the Prince of Tennis.

* * *

As routine from when they first started their unlikely arrangement of trainee-trainer, they met in the public tennis courts at six in the morning. Ryoma would always beat her to the venue with his thermos on hand, drinking some concoction he picked up when he was touring in Southeast Asia. Lit lamps accompanied Sakuno in her warm up laps. Every meeting was led with five runs around the premises. This exercise was the only one Ryoma joined in. Then, the rest of the morning, he would be sprawled on the park bench with a cold beverage, listening to the sound of her playing.

In their runs, she usually lags behind Ryoma. While she was on her third round, he was already on his fifth. He would stop when she did, typically finishing around nine cycles without breaking a sweat. It annoyed Sakuno at first, thinking he was outrunning her to mock her speed and stamina. But, as she later learned, Ryoma hardly cared about anything. Surely her skill was far below his point of notice to see her as competition. So, that would never have been the case.

His mind usually wanders when she practices. When they started around a few days ago, he watched her form more keenly. His gaze was strict; his tone, sharp. As of late, he was more tolerant and hands-off; giving her the freedom to practice as she wished, with a few comments from him here and there. Sometimes, and this has happened twice only, he'd pick up her extra racket, a fuchsia-colored one of an unremarkable brand – and play against her. Of everything she did in her routine, those games were the most instructive and caused the most drastic improvement in her playing style.

Of course, she never scored against him, she knew she never could.

Though, she did once by accident. She was trying to catch his slice and caught it at the tip of her racket, causing the ball to lob up in the air in a quick and dangerous spin. As Sakuno tripped, trying to get to the ball, she watched in awe as it entered Ryoma's side of the court and grazed the inner boarder line behind him.

In all honesty, Ryoma looked as if he wanted to burst out laughing then – at the ridiculous attempt she made, coupled with the incredulous expression on her face. That one blunder had raised his spirits that he even acknowledged it (as a 15 – adv point) even though Sakuno's racket flipped off her grasp the instant the ball hit its edge; and even though the girl fell on the ground as a result of the chase.

She couldn't remember when she last saw Ryoma's lips curve over a smirk. She should've seized the moment to take a picture. Ryoma rarely broke his cool, nonchalant demeanor. It was one of the many reasons he was so attractive; his aloof nature. As if nothing could ever get to him. A clear mind, maybe that was the secret behind his success – a clear mind and tons of talent.

The thought brought a smile to her pretty face. Ryoma didn't change one bit after all these years. He was still the incredibly handsome, cocky, and talented young boy she met years back. The snarky adolescent who had an eye for nothing other than tennis.

Now – as Sakuno pushes open the gate to the courts, she smiles - now, he was no longer just a boy who dreamt of tennis.

The brunette pauses in her step to look up at the young man tying his shoelace on one of the benches, the same young man who has constantly filled her thoughts. And, she tells herself, as Ryoma turns and meets her gaze with his piercing hazel orbs, he was everything was supposed to be and more.

Sakuno, she couldn't have been happier for him. Now, as he acknowledged her presence with a curt nod to her direction, she knew could only dream the same for herself; whatever tiny morsel of success she could scavenge for her unremarkable self.

* * *

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The Boy Who Stands Still

Chapter One

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* * *

Sakuno was currently rallying against the wall that early morning, strengthening and quickening her hits when Ryoma approached her and suggested she focus on her footing. His voice was deep and coarse. And he only spoke a little over a whisper as he explained why. The girl's doe eyes couldn't help but flicker, still unaccustomed to the familiarity between them when before there was none.

After minutes, a bored Ryoma stood from his seat, his heine – sore.

Noticing him approach, Sakuno fluidly caught the neon ball shooting back at her with her racket. "Is there something wrong?" She asked in a huff, out of breath; a tear of sweat cruising down the side of her face.

Ryoma shook his head in reply. "You should grunt." He told her, scratching the back of his head lazily.

Sakuno's nose creased, appalled by the idea.

"It keeps you attuned to your rhythm." Ryoma added. The cheeky expression on his face made Sakuno suspicious, feeling as though the young man was messing with her. "It's not always the case though. Some find it helpful, some don't."

Sakuno only narrowed her eyes at him, studying his expression. Ryoma, she believed, could be impish when he wanted to be.

"Well? Let's see if it'll help your game." Ryoma gestured to the courts, insisting she resume her rallying.

The brunette walked back to position, a wary look lacing her features.

With a simple service, she caught the ball with her racket and – suddenly remembering she forgot to grunt as she hit it - messed her spin and chucked the neon tennis ball over the fence to the road below. She immediately turned to Ryoma, begging him not to pursue this exercise. But the oddly enthusiastic boy only handed her another ball.

Eyes narrowing and cheeks flushing, Sakuno dribbled the neon ball and, comfortable with its feel, made another service. Quickly running to the other end of the court, positioning herself for a good hit, she caught the ball and grunted as she swung her racket with an added boost of adrenaline - making it reach the wall and back within record time.

Amazed, Sakuno turned to Ryoma. She was about to grin in excitement, but stopped at the unimpressed expression on her coach's face. "My shot was better, wasn't it?"

Ryoma's eyes squinted in thought. He didn't look happy. "Try grunting louder."

Though unsure, Sakuno complied. She made the serve, and caught the ball square on the sweetspot of her racket and grunted louder than she intended. Her cry echoed in the vicinity like a banshee's shriek, making the players in the other courts abruptly freeze in action to look over with perplexed expressions.

A wave of silence washed through the courts in the form of tennis balls dribbling to a full stop. And Sakuno wanted nothing more but to vanish into the floor. that same instant.

As if on que, Ryoma burst out laughing. "Now we're even." He managed to say in between his laughter.

Sakuno's doe eyes snapped to him in shock. "Even?" She cried in a shrill, humiliated voice.

"For the train ride." Ryoma told her over his shoulder as he made his way back to the benches, a grin on his handsome face.

Eyes widening in realization, recalling the incident just the night before, the girl's cheeks flushed into an even deeper shade of red. With a straight, unamused expression, Sakuno concluded bitterly that Ryoma was rather vengeful. Cheeks tinted red, the miffed student spun on her heel, pulled a tennis ball from her skirt pocket, and simply went on with practice; grumbling as she did.

It was close to ten o'clock in the morning when their session ended. And, as usual, she was exhausted. Today, it being a Saturday (a non-class day), Sakuno decided to eat out. She was slumped over her bag, packing her tennis gear when Ryoma's shadow loomed over. The girl turned to look up at him and frowned (still butthurt) at the coy grin on his lips, knowing well why he was in such good spirits.

"Going home?" The young man asked.

Sakuno's brows creased, confused. Was this small talk? She wondered, because, as far as she knew, Ryoma didn't make small talk. "Um…"

"I'm starving."

"I— Yes…" Sakuno blinked, confused. "There's a fastfood restaurant a few blocks down..."

Ryoma only smirked. "Let's have ramen. My treat."

Sakuno flushed in glee. "Really?" Her eyes shine almost instantly.

Ryoma grabbed his tennis gear.

"Let's go." He nodded to her, brows knitting, lips twitching; finding it amusing how the girl was too easy to please.

The establishment Sakuno recommended was packed when they peered through the window. But seeing as Ryoma was Ryoma, he managed to get them a table by the corner. Upon entering, the delicious aroma of the soup added to their appetite. When their orders came - Ryoma opted for Shoyu ramen and Sakuno, beef stew with rice - the former looked at her dish with an odd and perplexed expression. He'd soon ask why she wanted to go to a well-known ramen shop and order a rice meal, but decided against it when his stomach cried to him in a hungry growl.

It was only a few minutes into their meal that a shadow cast overhead.

"You're the girl who won yesterday, aren't you?" A huge high schooler grunted more than spoke, gesturing to Sakuno who looked up at him with wide doe eyes, unsure of what to say. But she needn't reply as the former soon turned to Ryoma who, unlike her, paid him no heed. "And you're Echizen Ryoma, the sixteen-year-old Grand Slam champion."

It is only then that Ryoma looks up at the tall high schooler.

"You're not wrong." Came his simple reply. Then, he returned to his ramen.

"I'd ask for your autograph, you know." The unwelcomed student snorted, lingering at their table. "But now that I know you're a damn cheat, helping that sloppy-playing brat, the appeal's lost to me."

Ryoma breaks his chopsticks in half. And, seeing as the guy was still there, said coolly, "Good. I don't indulge requests of gorillas."

Sakuno nearly choked on her seat. Her eyes could only watch the two in worry, thinking those words would be enough to send the large teenager over the edge and beat Ryoma to a pulp. But the student didn't and just snorted again. A thankful sigh escaped her lips as he turned away to leave, the tension on her shoulders - relaxing. But before he did, the scornful teen gave her a glare and muttered under his breath, "You'll lose soon enough, bitch."

In all honestly, Sakuno didn't know the curse was directed at her. She was, admittedly, gullible that way. But, Ryoma had. And he stood up before the brunette got a grasp of what was going on.

The furious teen followed the other to his table and glared at the haughty group cussing and badmouthing them in the other end of the restaurant, loud enough to be well within earshot of the whole establishment.

"Ryoma-kun," Sakuno grabs his arm trying to lead him away. "They're not worth it."

Ryoma only glares even more and, not minding the girl, pulls back his arm and turns to the rowdy group.

"Oh, were we being too loud?" One of the guys sneer at him. "I'd apologize, but I don't give a damn about cheaters."

"Had it not been for your coaching, I would've won. They never should've allowed a Grand Slam champion to coach a high schooler." A spiteful girl in the group bit at them. Then, she turned to Sakuno. "It's sickening how you have the gall to show yourself in the arena with zero experience in the game. Tell me, are you even the ace of your tennis club? Let alone a regular?" Then, feigning amazement, bitterly answered for the quiet brunette. "No. You're not even a regular." With a snarl, she added. "You're a fucking joke."

Ryoma steps in front of a humiliated Sakuno. Ryoma seemed at his limit, ready to lash back with his quick wit; but, Sakuno stopped him. With a stolid expression, she pulled on his arm again.

"Let's go, Ryoma-kun." She muttered. The girl was pale and her eyes were brimming with tears. Still, Ryoma wouldn't budge. Sakuno was shaking where she stood. Finally, unable to take any more of it, she turned; about to run away when Ryoma caught her arm.

"What does that make you then?" The young man suddenly said. The livid girl on her seat, surrounded by expressions of varying animosity, looks up with a scowl at the stoic young man, fazed by the intensity of his gaze. "Since you lost to someone who's a joke."

With that, Sakuno pulled from Ryoma's hold, leaving the latter with no choice but to follow after her.

Outside, Ryoma called out to the brunette walking briskly in front of him. "You should learn to stand up for yourself."

Sakuno only managed to throw him a glare over her shoulder, eyes brimming with unshed tears. "You should've just let it go."

The young man couldn't believe his ears. "They were mocking you. And you don't care?"

Sakuno's lips quiver. "Of course, I do. But, they're right." She sighs, releasing the long breath she held in for fear she'd end up crying in front of Ryoma. "Had it not been for your help, I wouldn't have won."

Ryoma echoes her sigh.

"When I started coaching you, at what point of the tournament were you able to reach on your own?" Sakuno blinks at him, not knowing where he was headed with his question. "The finals." He answers for her. "Your skill isn't what's holding you back, Ryuzaki. It's your lack of confidence."

Sakuno is mute, mulling over his words. She kept quiet, not really knowing what to reply; not really wanting to speak. The coarseness in her throat grew painful every passing second.

"What?" Ryoma frowns.

"What-" She chokes. "There's nothing about me I should take pride in." She says with a self-deprecating smile. "Unlike you, I've no talent. I- I don't even know what came over me, joining this tournament." Her eyes fill with unshed tears and her cheeks redden.

Ryoma's brows crease in disbelief. To him, it made no sense, why she was putting herself down.

His voice was soft when he said, "You shouldn't compare yourself to others. I'm talking about your confidence in your skill. Everyone has a different skillset. Confidence is the ability to make the most out of yours." Then, gradually, a smirk forms on the side of his handsome face, continuing. "Besides, using me as a standard is not half bad. If you shoot for the stars, you just might land on the moon."

Sakuno looks down, smiling. "Isn't is shoot for the moon and land on a star?"

Ryoma turns to smirk at her. "If it was, it would be rather stupid, wouldn't it?"

This only makes Sakuno laugh. "Mada mada dane, ne?" She jokes.

"Don't worry." His breath fades in with a wisp of air. "You're getting there."

When they reached the fork in the road, before they parted ways, Ryoma offered to walk her home for the first time since their arrangement. But Sakuno declined his offer, reassuring him she felt better. He needn't bother himself with her any more than necessary. He's given her far too much of his time for her to consciously allow him to render anymore of it for her sake, especially since she had nothing to offer in return.

Ryoma gave her a curt nod in reply, not knowing what else to say— he never really knew the right words to say now that he thought about it. He rarely spoke and only did in snarky retorts and witty comments.

Exchanging farewells, Ryoma waved and Sakuno bowed.

Light as the girl's mood became, the thought continued to unsettle her – that she will never be good enough. The words of those students, though said out of spite and bitterness, were no less true. She had no prior experience. She had shown no tangible evidence of spirit and talent in tennis.

With every step home, the brunette fell deeper and deeper into a resurfacing pool of insecurities. Ryoma's words were welcome but unnecessary. At the end of the day, she considered him as the last person she'd want any consolation from. She suspected he was the last person in the world who had an inkling as to how little she felt – he being the talented young man he was and her being a _joke_. When push comes to shove, that was all Ryoma could spare for her, some few words and a small amount of his time.

Under the blanket of the night sky, the girl walked home alone just as she always had. And she expected for nothing more from Ryoma, from others, and most especially, from herself.

* * *

To be continued.


	3. Chapter Two

Disclaimer: I do not own the Prince of Tennis.

* * *

It was a hot Wednesday's afternoon, during a spirited game of Mahjong with her peers of boisterous old folk, that Sumire stole a glance at her granddaughter. She was arranging her tiles then, laughing at a quip of Dazo, their neighbor, when Sakuno came over to serve them tea.

Sumire's friends laughed rowdily in merriment as was their nature. And her granddaughter could do no more but politely nod along in unease at their quips about her being single. Eyes old with age turned the young ward and, for the first time, Sumire realizes the child under her care… was no longer the child she always thought her to be.

Sakuno had always been a dutiful young lady. She never raised her voice to her nor asked for something out of turn. The child hardly went out with friends. And, she's never brought home some guy. In her youth, Sumire was the child's stark contrast. Which was why she's been waiting for these periods of experimentation, of rowdiness, of wild behavior to indicate her granddaughter's progress to adulthood.

Smirking to herself, Sumire shook her head and chuckled. She must have been a better parent than she thought she'd be. Before she knew it, Sakuno had already grown into a beautiful lady.

Eventually, after two more rounds of her friends' nonsense, the old woman pulled money from her bag and gingerly handed them to a surprised Sakuno. Sumire said, as her friends' laughter continued to fill the vicinity, "Why don't you go out and have some fun, watch a movie with your friends; date." Sumire winked.

A surprised Sakuno turned to her, already blushing at the odd offer of her cheeky grandmother. "I don't have to." The girl shook her head, trying to return the latter's money. "Dazo-san's going to teach how to play." She grinned.

Sumire turned to glare at the old man beside her.

"This is an old man's game, Sakuno." Sumire sighed. "I'd rather you visit the mall than wait on us old people all afternoon." The old woman pushed back Sakuno's hand, the money crumpled inside. "Invite Tomoka-chan." The woman said as an afterthought, shooing Sakuno to the door.

As the girl stepped out of the house with much protest, she could hear her grandmother's friends say after her, "You know, I should bring my Shou-chin next time. He's only fifteen but mature for his age. It's an instant match for our dear Sakuno-chan."

"Don't bring your stupid grandson!" Another cried. "Sakuno-chan seems to like meaty men! If anyone'll get with Sakuno-chan, it'll be my boy, Kenji. He's just become captain of his Judo team, you know." This makes the girl's cheeks turn beet red.

"Oh, Kami-sama, shut up you idiots!" The third one groans in aggravation. "How're they to compete with the boy Sumire's lined up for Sakuno-chan?!"

"Who?" Sakuno overhears her grandmother ask in earnest.

"Why! Ryoma Echizen, of course!"

* * *

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The Boy Who Stands Still

Chapter Two

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* * *

Bored Cheshire eyes closed as the young man with the ebony locks, with the fetching features and handsome physique shifted to his side, lazily swinging a stick in front of his Himalayan cat, Karupin; teasing the equally lazy old feline.

Ryoma had nothing to do that day. Or rather, nothing piqued his fancy long enough to keep him on his feet. There was nothing much to do in the city, he decided. Its allure was lost to him.

Now that he thought of it, his morning practices with Sakuno was the only thing keeping him going.

Back in California, he'd have several opponents waiting in line. But, as the boy was alone in their large home at residential Tokyo, he had no one to engage him. He'd soon walk off to the tennis courts to start a friendly match with a stranger, but since his popularity has taken a sudden spike within the locality in the recent days, he's decided to lay low indefinitely.

Suddenly, the stick on his grasp is jerked away.

Ryoma groans as Karupin snatches the toy from his grasp and runs to the other room.

Constrained with nothing to do, with no vigor to accomplish anything, he shifted onto his back and idly turned to the ceiling above, sighing and thinking, 'What the hell am I doing here?'

A frown reached his lips at the thought of everyone back home, berating him on his decision to visit Tokyo right after he'd just won the Grand Slam title.

Again, he shifted.

He remembered the shock, the confusion on his mother's face, his agent's, his friends. Honestly, he himself doesn't know what possessed him to return to this country, one he's never given more than a passing thought. He doesn't know why he was training Sakuno; let alone why he was lying on the wooden floor facing the backyard that once held a tennis court long ago. Nothing he's done recently made any sense to him.

His hand lightly touches the cold floor beneath him; and, with a sweep of a finger, he notes that the abandoned house had been collecting dust these past years. A part of him wondered whether it was lonely, whether they shouldn't have had left that first, that second, that third time. Whether he would've had a normal life with his seniors back in middle school, whether they'd still be playing tennis up until now.

The Ryuzakis were his last link to a life he could've possibly have had he chosen to stay in Tokyo and build his career here. Everyone else seemed to have already left, taken their separate paths.

A question shot to him by a random reporter came to mind, that maybe, this was the crossroads of his life. Now that he's the Grand Slam title holder, what was next for him?

Turning to his back, the boy glances up the ceiling and finds a moth circling the fluorescent light. Suddenly, he is reminded of the ungodly heat and the wetness of his skin, of the beads of sweat trickling down his face and the harrowing breaths he takes as he awaits the service of his opponent. He could only make out the silhouette of his faceless rival. Over the years, they seemed to blur into this one, unidentifiable image.

His life felt like an endless game of tennis. When he'd look back in his life, he'd always find himself in a court, competing in another tournament, against countless amateurs and professionals alike. He could only make out the silhouette of his faceless rival. Over the years, they seemed to blur into this one, unidentifiable image. Somewhere in his thirst for the game, he freezes. He looks around him and stands still. The world is in an uproar around him, screaming, cheering, crying. And his opponent seems lost.

As he reached the top of the competitive world of tennis, the more it felt surreal; as if he was separate from all that was happening around him; as if he was someone else looking into a life not his own. He started the field as a boy and won still as a boy. He was but sixteen when he won the Grand Slam.

There were days, long nights, when he'd wonder whether he loved tennis as much as he did when he was younger – that maybe he was unconsciously forced down a path he never really wanted to take.

The world of professional tennis always escaped him. He'd often wonder why so many people would compete for a mere trophy. Why so much money was thrown into a sport. He found it ridiculous. He thinks that most of those involved didn't even care for the game. Because, he knew for a fact that only a small percentage of the world's best players took part in such competitions; that professional athletes were commodities packaged for commercialization.

Would his father want him to continue? But even his old man quit when he was born. Did his father know all this when he first enlisted him in the US Open? His father – a long, heavy sigh escaped his parted lips – he wondered whether his old man had already known all this time.

Again, he shifts to his side.

A foreign heat suddenly leaned on his back. Ryoma smirked at the soft purring of Karupin by his side. Before he knows it, another day had passed. The orange hue of the setting sun had once again painted the sky. And yet again, he had nothing to show for his day. When the next morning comes, with all these thoughts set aside, far back into the deepest recesses of his mind as he's always done for a long time now, he wakes to a new day with the same feeling of emptiness in his chest. He'd prepare himself for the day's practice, bathe, brush his teeth, blend his signature drink, and walk into an empty court where he'll be joined by a girl he barely knew. A girl whose motivations seem to be a poor imitation of some ideal she's forced upon herself.

"Good morning, Ryoma-kun." The brunette with braided hair greets him with a smile on her porcelain face as she set down her gear by the bench he was on.

"Hn." Ryoma nods in return. And nothing more is said between them until the end of the session.

Watching her, seeing nothing wrong with her form, with her playing style, Ryoma's gaze rises, finally realizing that what the girl was lacking, what was holding her back all this time, was her lack of vigor. And in this, he was unequipped to coaching.

In their succeeding sessions, more than typical, Ryoma was short-tempered and distant. He no longer joined her in her morning runs nor did he show up on time for practice. He didn't see the need to. And, Sakuno didn't seem to mind. Nothing he did ever seemed to bother the girl; so why would his obvious disinterest in training her be perceived any different.

Sweaty and out of breath, the brunette turned to glance at the young man seated on the benches with a vexed expression on her red face. Because, for the nth time that morning, she caught him looking at her with an odd expression. The boy, it seemed, was looking at her in an unfaltering manner, different from his typical studying of her form and playing style. Rather than analyze her movement, he was gazing at her, studying her as if her character was a mystery that puzzled him. Always, when she would turn to face him, her neon tennis ball on one hand and her racket on the other, he would never fail to meet her gaze.

And, it was suffocating her.

Unable to stand it any longer, she stopped rallying and approached him with confusion written on her face. Ryoma merely looked up at her as if naïve as to why she had walked over.

A moment passed, and Ryoma – knowing she wouldn't budge until he quit playing fool – spoke.

"Your head's not in it." He told her frankly. Sakuno's brows furrow, a dread started to bubble in her gut. "I just realized it." He continued, his tone casual. He shrugged and pulled a demeanor that failed to notice he was causing offense. To the boy, he was simply stating a fact. "I don't understand why you even show up to practice."

"You don't experiment with your form nor initiate games with me or others. You never changed your diet nor your routine. And," He turned to her worn tennis racket, bought by her with her measly saved up student's allowance. "You've never upgraded your racket." He turns to her again, delivering his final blow. "Are you here just because I am? Because you have some silly crush on me?"

Sakuno is trembling in humiliation. Her lips start to tremble and the taste in her mouth sours.

Before her, the young man merely gave her a resigned and distant look. "Maybe you are right." Then, his voice drifts. And he gives no regard to the figure approaching him. "Maybe this is all you can do."

When he looks up at the red face glaring down at him, he is met with a slap to the cheek.

He doesn't take back his words. He never intends to. Ryoma just lowers his gaze. He knew she would cry. And that was something he didn't care to see.

The hand that struck him continued to shake.

Ryoma does nothing when Sakuno suddenly turns on her heel and stuffs her racket into her tennis bag. She leaves without picking two – three of her scattered tennis balls. And a while after the side of his cheek cools, Ryoma returns home. He spends days lying down and sleeping. A deep lethargy casts upon the young prodigy, a laziness swept over him and overshadowed his growing depression.

.

In a few days, Sakuno steps into the courts alone when previously, Ryoma would be walking beside her as her coach. Clearly, as it has been for a while now, those days were behind her.

Later, her friends will join the audiences in the bleachers. Tomoka would be screaming in the top of her lungs, holding up her glittery banners. And those the boisterous lady managed to pull in attendance in support of Sakuno would look away in embarrassment.

It was almost nine o'clock in the morning, when the match would start. And as the time grew close, the seconds slowed, her pulse quickened, and all the noise around her seemed to have grown mute. Hunched over her tennis bag, searching for her towel, her palms start to sweat. It was then that the thought occurred to her – was she in over her head? What was she doing competing in such a prestigious televised tournament?

She looks up and blinks; blinded by the unbearable brightness of the vicinity. In her ears, her drumming pulse grew deafening.

She was going to muck it up, a voice at the back of her mind told her. Losing had never been an issue; she had long expected to lose. But – she could never live with the thought of embarrassing herself in court. An array of memories of tripping over her feel on level ground, of hitting herself with her own tennis racket, with her own tennis balls hit her.

God, did she feel like vomiting.

Suddenly, a sharp whistle catches her attention. It was the umpire, calling the start of the game.

Sakuno takes a moment to compose herself. Eyes teary and shot open in nervousness, she wipes her sweaty hands with her towel. She picks up the racket to her side. And swallows as she turned to the umpire to nod. When she reaches the middle of the court, she wipes her hand on her skirt before reaching out to shake the hand of her opponent. And, she barely catches the words of her day's competitor, saying, "No boyfriend today?" so condescendingly before smirking and turning to wave excitedly to the audience.

Doe eyes widen at the insinuation as she is left by the net, frozen in shock. A bubbling in her gut started; an anger in her chest grew. Her grip on her tennis racket tightened as she walked to her box.

Taking a breath as the umpire called them to the ready, as the audience silenced, Sakuno released the long, deep breath she's been holding in. And in that first _pok_ , in that first service of the neon ball being hit to her side of the court, she leapt to her feet and, dropping her elbow in the right angle, received the service on the sweetspot of her racket and sliced it to the opposite side of the court with the speed and precision she's been honing for a long time now, and garnered her first point of the day.

As the match progressed, when break was called half-time, the two were close to equal footing, with Sakuno having advantage. It was when the doe-eyed brunette closed her water bottle, ready to return to the court, that the audience suddenly exploded in cheers. Her gaze rose, eyes widening at the sight of Ryoma approaching. He was waving to the crowd crying in deliria, shooting them his trademark smirk; his suave stride.

Sakuno was speechless as he nodded to her and gracefully took his seat on the coach's bench. Her mouth hung agape at his audacity. She was so taken by surprise she had totally forgotten how enraged she was of him.

"You see it, right?" Ryoma said more than asked.

Sakuno nodded, brows knit, understanding what he meant perfectly. By the time they took a break, she could already pinpoint the weakness of her opponent. What eluded her though was his presence. Why - was he here, being so obliging, so accommodating to the ecstatic crowd around them.

Then, as if hearing her inner turmoil, Cheshire eyes rise to meet her uneasy, reluctant chestnut doe-eyed ones. "I shouldn't have said those things." His tone, still flat, still distant.

Brows rising, it takes Sakuno a while before her gaze drops, before she shakes her head. In a soft voice, she tells him, "It doesn't really matter. People will always speak. It's – I should learn when not to listen."

"Ah." Ryoma nods and gestures to the court where Sakuno's opponent was waiting. "Good luck."

"Hai."

As Sakuno returns to the court, the spectators, her opponent will think Ryoma gave her some incredible playing hack when there was nothing of the sort. Sakuno won that day solely from her own skill. And, no one will think the same. But, it didn't matter what they thought. Because finally, for once in her life, she acknowledged she did.

After the game she's won, some of her friends invited her out to celebrate. While most hung around to get a chance to meet the Grand Slam Champion, Sakuno didn't mind one bit. She was close by when the invitation was extended to Ryoma who, in turn, said, "I don't think I should." while turning to face Sakuno with a steady expression, acknowledging the hitch in their relationship.

Sakuno only shakes her head and smiles at him, the smile she always wore for everyone stemming from her good-natured disposition. "You should come, Ryoma-kun."

And Ryoma nods, a smirk on his lips.

In the small venue, after Ryoma enters following a group of enthusiastic girls, he is surprised to come face to face with a snogging Kaidoh and Tomoka. Kaidoh is first to notice the unwanted intrusion and Tomoka pulls away, cheeks tinted, unable to face Ryoma.

"Take a picture, why don't you." Kaidoh bites at the stunned Ryoma.

"Ryoma-sama!" Tomoka cried, much to Kaidoh's chagrin. "I was wondering when we'd finally be reunited!"

Ryoma only smirks, getting the signal from Kaidoh to get lost, and joins in the celebration of Sakuno's entry to the final five. Inside, he finds Sakuno and expects her to be cold to him. He couldn't blame her. But to his surprise, she puts on a face of warmth and camaraderie, one he actually didn't mind, one he actually liked.

And, when they were alone, he calls her out on this by simply stating as a matter of fact, "You put on a good show."

Sakuno looks at him with a mix of irritation and self-pity. She knew she was still angry at the young man, but she couldn't shake off the admiration she had for him. After all, he was still Ryoma, no matter how insensitive he's become, or always was.

"It's annoying." She says as she clears the table to make way for another plate of sushi. Ryoma mirrors her actions and follows her to the counter with some plates. "Because I know I should hate you." She sets them on the sink. And, looking at the prodigy with a sorry excuse for a glare, as she took the dishes on his hold, sighs, "But, I can't help it." Her lips break into a smile. "-You're Ryoma-kun."

There, she leaves him confused by her words.

With brows furrowed, he wondered what it meant to her, his being Ryoma-kun. Because, unlike her, it had long meant nothing to him.

* * *

To be continued.


	4. Chapter Three

Disclaimer: I do not own the Prince of Tennis.

* * *

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The Boy Who Stands Still

Chapter Three

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* * *

"Ohaiyo~" Ryoma's groggy eyes widened by a fraction, startled by the ringing greeting. He looked up. A familiar feeling of dread deep in his gut washed over him. That pitchy tone, high and alarmingly sweet, was all too recognisable. It was just too early in the day for this, he groaned to himself. "Ryoma-sama!" The girl with the pony tails called with a cheer, her sharp eyes closing as she laughed at the sour expression on his face. "Someone looks like they woke up on the wrong side of bed today, ei, Sakuno?" She nudged her timid friend.

Lips pursed and eyes staring daggers, Ryoma turned his gaze to the rather guiltily-smiling Sakuno.

"Good morning, Ryoma-kun." She nodded in greeting.

"I needed to exercise more." Tomoka explained needlessly, stretching as she did. In the background, Ryoma set down his ass on his usual bench, not at all minding the chatty girl. "I don't want to store up fat, know what I mean?"

Only Sakuno nodded in acknowledgment. Ryoma, on his seat, only grimaced. The girl was unnecessarily talkative. It made his head ache so early in the morning. Again, still irked, he cast an accusing glare over to his protégé. The doe-eyed young woman didn't seem to notice, simply returning to her routine. Before long, Sakuno started a game with Tomoka. And Ryoma kept to himself, eyes wandering to his pupil from time to time.

After a full set, ecstatic, bright hazel eyes turned to Ryoma who she was sure to be impressed by her performance, as much as anyone in his caliber could be impressed. But, her smile waivered, taken aback at finding him engrossed deep in conversation on his mobile. She didn't notice when he stopped watching the game.

"Is he always like that?" Her best friend asked as she walked up to her. Sakuno turned to follow Tomoka's quizzical gaze.

"Like what?"

"Never present." The vocal, frank brunette said, unabashed. And, turning to a confused Sakuno, explained further. "Like his mind's always someplace else."

Sakuno's brows creased deeper. Then, the idea still lost to her, eyes wandering to the young man engrossed in conversation, said hesitantly, "…I guess."

"Anyway, Sak." Tomoka wiped the sweat off her face. "If you don't mind, I'll go on ahead. I'll have to meet the devil (Kaidoh) soon." She laughed.

"Hai." Sakuno's smile failed to reach her eyes; rather taken aback by her best friend's comment; then, wondering why the thought bothered her.

"That was Momo-senpai on the phone." Ryoma said a few moments later, still in a high as he pocketed his phone and turned to the brunette resigned on drinking from her thermos.

"Is he in Tokyo?" Sakuno inquired with a small smile, sitting on the bench with her water bottle on hand.

"No." Ryoma grins. "But if I leave now, I can meet him somewhere in Nagoya."

"That's- crazy!" His friend exclaimed surprise. "It'll be sundown by the time you get there."

"That's never stopped me before." Ryoma smirked. Then, grabbing his bag, walked off. Behind him, Sakuno grew flustered at the thought of his lengthy travel. Then, she suddenly stops following the young man, making the latter turn around to face her with a confused expression.

With a lump in her throat, she blinks before looking at her friend. "Have a safe trip."

Ryoma raised a brow at her. "You're busy?"

"I— no." Her eyes sting and her voice chokes.

"Don't you want to come?"

"To-to Nagoya?" Everything suddenly felt so surreal. She can't remember the last time she's gone out of town.

"Well?"

A smile forms on her lips. A hand touches her chest.

"I— I don't think I should." She trails away half-heartedly.

Suddenly, Ryoma reaches out and pulls her along with him. The girl could only look up at him, seeing the side of his face as he gazed ahead. His tan skin shown under the light of the sun, his smirk, handsome, cool, steadfast. Then, he shakes his head as he told her what he knew she felt. It was uncanny, how easily the young man could read her. "Stop it -"

"Stop keeping yourself from doing what you want."

.

The line grew spacious the farther they got from Tokyo. They transferred trains a couple of times and ate dinner at a food stand nearby while waiting for their final train to Nagoya.

Sometime, halfway into their journey, Ryoma offered to carry Sakuno's tennis bag. She was reluctant at first, but the irritated glare Ryoma cast her way told her to concede. She sent her grandmother an e-mail as well and was called a few seconds after. While the girl had to sit through Sumire's nagging voice, about how late it would be, about how she shouldn't allow Ryoma to bully her into babysitting him, Ryoma was filled with dread, fearing the old hag would ask for him and tear his ear off with her scolding. Thankfully, he released a sigh of relief that made Sakuno chuckle as she put away her mobile, Sumire didn't ask to talk to him.

Legs stretched in front of her, back slouched, and chin resting on her palm propped up on her seat's armrest, Sakuno's gaze wandered to the handsome young man beside her. Ryoma was seated by the window, eyes looking out into the dark horizon; lights passing them in a bright haze; reflecting on his face, tinting his cheeks with color. Her doe eyes were lidded, tired as she was, and vaguely, she wondered what he was thinking as she slowly succumbed to sleep.

A gentle nudge on her shoulder, or two, woke her in a groggy daze, "Sakuno," She thinks a soft voice whispers, "Sakuno…" the voice, oddly warm and familiar. When she regains her senses, she raises her gaze to find bright hazel eyes, sharp and wide meeting hers.

"I—I'm sorry," She breathes as she pulls away from the shoulder she had unconsciously slept on. Shaking her head, she wiped her sleepy eyes, hid them behind her fingers, and stole a moment to exhale; not daring to acknowledge the sudden skip in her chest brought by the impossible proximity between herself and the handsome tennis prodigy who suddenly returned into her life.

.

When they arrived, Momoshiro was not around. Ryoma ringed him up, asking where they should head to next. Sakuno could hear her upperclassman's voice over Ryoma's mobile. The university student sounded out of breath.

"He said for us to wait here." The boy said, joining Sakuno on one of the benches in the platform. The brunette turned to him, perplexed. "I think he was running." Ryoma turned to her, sharing her confusion.

"I'm sure everything's all right." Sakuno offered.

"Hn." The handsome boy nodded, leaning back on his seat. Beside him, the brunette, exhausted from the long journey, grew unsettled as the minutes went by with no direction or word from Momo. Turning to her left, her eyes fell upon Ryoma tapping his leg, obviously agitated by the delay as well.

Fifteen minutes in passing, and it being close to eight in the evening, Ryoma suddenly stood from where he sat, jolting awake the brunette who had unknowingly drifted to sleep again.

"I need to walk." He announced. Sakuno turned to him with a groggy expression, not understanding. "Do you mind staying here, in case Momo-senpai suddenly materializes in thin air?" He asked in a biting, sarcastic tone.

The girl, sensing his foul temperament, could only nod as the boy walked out of the train station.

There was a continuing line of food stalls, restaurants, and nearby inns outside. But Ryoma gave them no heed. He let out an irritated breath and stuffed his cold hands into his coat pockets, walking forward with no direction, aimlessly, until a familiar figure appeared in the crowd of people in transit before him.

He couldn't believe his eyes. Huffing, and at a deep loss of breath, Momoshiro wiped the sweat falling over his eyes with the back of his hand, blinking to clear his vision. In front of him, the boy stopped on his tracks, at a loss of how to act. Conversing over social media, over the phone, was a stark contrast to meeting a friend face to face. It suddenly dawned to Ryoma that the lengthy separation might have hampered whatever strong bond they had before. The anger and frustration he initially felt suddenly turned into dread and nausea.

So, not knowing what to say, Ryoma looked down unsurely and grunted in greeting, "Hn." Before turning to look at Momo's expression. The latter though, unable to help himself, suddenly fell into a deafening tone of pitched squealing laughter at the boy's awkwardness. The boy's cheeks flared in an instant. "What's so funny?" He sputtered in challenge, trying to sound formidable. This only made Momo laugh even more hysterically.

"Kami-sama!" Momo cried in disbelief amid his laughing. "What's happened to you?" He guffawed. "And here I thought that winning the Grand Slam made you more obnoxious than ever!" Ryoma only stood stunned by his good friend's unseemly welcome – as if they didn't spend almost five years apart. "I can't wait to tell this to Eiji-senpai! And what the hell are you wearing?" He continued to laugh uncontrollably.

A smirk is brought onto Ryoma's lips amidst the foul laughter of his friend. There the boy stood, in his sport shorts and polo shirt, thinking in welcomed disbelief - Some things, he decided, just didn't change.

"Your hair." Ryoma first mentions in genuine awe. Then, with his lips twitching to a smirk, said. "And I thought it was bad seeing it online."

Momoshiro's cheeks flush in embarrassment. Ears tinting, he stuttered uncoolly in defense, "Forgive me for having a fashion sense, you devil-hobo!" He pointed at Ryoma's normal haircut, one the latter didn't notice was long enough to cover his ears.

The younger teen only laughed at his upperclassman and his manbun.

"I'm sorry I'm late." Momo apologized later on. Ryoma nodded as they walked back the station side-by-side. "I—" He scratched his head unsurely. "I actually have to leave soon." The boy to his side turned to him in surprise. And, even before he let his junior lash out at him in disbelief, he pressed his palms together and pleaded for forgiveness. "I was really free today but my professor wore me down. That old man needs all the help he can get." He sighed.

Surprisingly enough, Ryoma only laughed good-naturedly.

"You're not pissed?" Momo asked warily.

"You'd be amazed to know I'm no longer twelve, Momo-senpai." Ryoma said simply, to which Momo only laughed, conceding to what he believed was the unlikely sensibleness of the younger man. Then, his eyes flickered at the large camping bag his friend was carrying. There was a water bottle on its side and a tent secured on the top. "You're going camping?"

Momoshiro, still grinning, as he had been from the moment of their reunion, shrugged.

"You can say that. We'll be collecting rare fungi in Takayama." He said in excitement, earning a smirk at the increasingly amused Ryoma. "The Kirinomitake." When Ryoma said nothing, simply smirked to himself, and walked on, Momo raised a brow at him, asking. "What's with that look?"

Smirk still in place, Ryoma turned to his friend.

"It's funny." His eyes turned to the evening sky, pondering. "I never could've imagined you'd be who you are today. I honestly never thought you'd want to go into university."

Momo shared his amusement, falling into nostalgia as well.

"Tch." Momo clicked his tongue in amusement. "I, on the other hand, I always knew you'd take the tennis world by storm."

"Hn." Ryoma nodded, the coy curve on his lips – ever-present.

"So, what now? You signing on a big deal yet?" Momo grinned at the boy knowingly.

Taken aback, Ryoma shook his head. "No," He said, his tone suddenly distant. "Not yet."

"University's out of the question then?" The tall young man prodded on eagerly. "Did you even apply anywhere?"

Ryoma shrugged, hesitating before he answered. "I did."

"So, you're considering university?" When Ryoma failed to reply, Momo nearly cried. "Well? Don't leave me in the dark."

"I—" Ryoma turned with a glare at Momo, doubtful. "I've taken entrance exams. I got into schools." The boy shrugged.

"Where?" Momoshiro's eyes glittered in anticipation. "Did you apply at Nagoya U?"

This made Ryoma laugh.

"I'm afraid not." The boy chuckled, earning a sour frown from his clingy friend. "Maybe, I'll consider applying – after you graduate."

"You're full of it, aren't you?" Momo glared at him with pink cheeks.

"I got into Tokyo U. They're holding my slot for me until I decide to come in for my interview with the dean's panel."

Suddenly, Momoshiro froze. And Ryoma turned back to find his upperclassman's face creased in discomfort.

"What monster are you?" The taller young man shuddered. In turn, Ryoma only shook his head and laughed. "But, in all seriousness, I'm surprised you even applied anywhere – let alone TU." Momo ran a hand over his face. "Where does that leave tennis then? You are _the_ tennis prodigy after all." He finished, staring intently, waiting for his friend's reply.

"I don't know what to tell you." Ryoma simply shrugged coldly before turning around to return to the station.

Momoshiro frowned behind Ryoma. They've been walking in silence for about a minute now. "Did I say something wrong?" He had to ask. He was honestly at a loss to Ryoma's coldness.

Ryoma threw Momo a glare over his shoulder. "You didn't."

"Then what's with the attitude?" It was Momoshiro's turn to glare.

"What attitude?" Ryoma answered bitingly.

"What was wrong with what I said? It was a legitimate question!"

Suddenly, Ryoma spun on his heel and stared Momoshiro down with a dangerous look.

"You haven't met me for how many years, so you don't have the right to question me."

Expression pooled out of Momoshiro's face, leaving a straight, unimpressionable one at the anger behind Ryoma's quiet tone of voice.

"What are you saying?" The older boy asked squarely, his eyes unflinching at the cold stare of Ryoma. "And just to clear it up, I wasn't giving you grief about your application to university."

Ryoma raised a hand to the temple of his head. "It's not that."

"Then, what is it?"

"I'm not like you."

"What do you mean, not like me?" Momoshiro repeated, his tone, offended.

Sighing, exasperatedly running a hand through his hair, Ryoma said with his jaws clenched. "I'm Ryoma Echizen, the tennis prodigy, the sixteen-year-old Grand Slam title holder."

Momoshiro paused from his tracks, confused. "What?"

"I'm not allowed to be anyone else." Ryoma's brows furrow angrily, at no one in particular; his glare, directed to the floor. "At sixteen, people have my life figured out for me. Everyone knows where I'm supposed to be going even before I do – when that's just ridiculous." Then, he looks up at meets Momoshiro's surprised gaze. "Shouldn't I have a say in what my life's going to be?" He ends almost pleadingly.

When Momoshiro wasn't able to find anything to say to him, Ryoma continued to glare at the floor, only this time, he was angry at himself for losing his composure.

It takes a while before Momoshiro asks him, softly at first, "What is it you want to do?"

To wit, Ryoma sighs yet again. And, anger residing, answers pathetically, "I don't know."

"Well, that's dumb." Momoshiro flatly and frankly says, earning a surprised look from his junior. "Did you apply to any universities? Did you sign any contracts?"

Another glare made its way to Ryoma's face. "What does that have to do with anything?"

"Just answer me." Momoshiro suddenly stops and turns to face a rather taken-back Ryoma. His stare, unwavering and firm as he waited for the tennis prodigy to blurt out whatever it was on his mind.

In a grit of a reply, Ryoma uttered, "No."

"And you've been approached by a number of agents you've declined?" Quickly came Momoshiro's follow-up.

Ryoma's glare deepened, not knowing where his friend was heading at. "Hn."

"Then, you know what you want to do." Momo simply tells him. "You just think you don't."

"Don't mess with me."

"Mada mada dane, Ryoma." Momoshiro smirked, infuriating his old friend with his very own catch phrase. And with that, it was Momo who left Ryoma behind.

The boy stirred in confusion as he watched his upperclassman walk in front of him. Looking at his physique, he realized that, although he has grown quite a lot over the years, Momoshiro was still taller than him. "You know—" The young prodigy called out after his upperclassman. The latter's broad, strong shoulders seemed oddly familiar. "You've become cool."

Momo nearly laughs again, turning to look over his shoulder at his best friend; at the ridiculousness of Ryoma's words. "I've always been cool." The stylish young man grins. "You just never noticed because you have always been cooler."

At this, Ryoma couldn't help but smirk.

.

"What do you plan on doing now?" Momoshiro asked as they reached the station.

Shrugging, Ryoma, with a small smirk, eyes cast to the ground, thoughts still engrossed in his upperclassman's words, replied simply, "Go home."

"Shit." Momo frowns. "Maybe I shouldn't go to this excursion after all." Ryoma looked at him with a puzzled brow. "I mean, you came all this way on your own."

Ryoma chuckled. "It's all right. Honestly, it's refreshing; seeing you pursue your dream." The young man stated with a hint of envy. "Besides, if there's anyone you should be apologizing to, it should be Ryuzaki."

Momo's eyes widened, his brows crease, and his mouth dries. "What?"

"I pulled her with me at the last second." Ryoma said, shaking his head at the apparent mistake. He undoubtedly wasted her time. "Now I think, I shouldn't have." Looking at Momo, the young man blinks at the odd expression on his upperclassman's face. "Ryuzaki, the old hag's granddaughter." He tells him. Momoshiro nods stiffly without a word of reply and only keeps a straight face. Brows creasing, Ryoma simply waved off that something he thought he saw in his good friend's eyes, trepidation.

When they reached the station, the pair found Sakuno idly waiting outside. With her tennis bag leaning on a post, her head was dipping as her heavy hooded eyes started to close in sleep once again. The instant she saw them though, she straightened up and her eyes shone in greeting. "You found senpai." She smiles widely at Ryoma as the duo approached her.

"Yeah." Ryoma nods with a smirk.

"How are you doing, senpai?" Sakuno bowed at Momoshiro. "It's been a year since you left Seishun Gakuen." She smiled.

"More like a lifetime." Momoshiro wears a small goofy smile that seemed to negate the nonchalant, aloof look of his manbun, one that didn't pass Sakuno's notice. Her hazel doe eyes flickered to the bun atop the tall young man's head. At which the university student laughed. Pointing to his hair, he asked, "It doesn't work, does it?"

In alarm, Sakuno shook her head furiously. "It's cool!" She raved with a large grin. "Very handsome."

Momo just continued to laugh, cheeks tinting. "You never change, do you, Sakuno-chan?" He ends in a handsome grin, eyes brimming with mirth. The girl just smiles bashfully.

In her stead, Ryoma smirks, "You'd be surprised."

"Last I heard, you have a girlfriend now, senpai?" The girl asks excitedly, earning surprised looks from the two young men. Ryoma turned to his senior in disbelief.

In turn however, Momoshiro's smile waivers. Averting his gaze, he laughs and shakes his head. "I," He chuckles at something both Sakuno and Ryoma miss. "…don't."

Just like that, it hits her. Sakuno nods, eyes widening at her slip of tongue. Uneasily, she looks the other way. And an awkwardness grows between them while Ryoma stood there like the odd man out.

It was Momoshiro who cut the tension. "You know," He told Ryoma. "I think I have time for dinner. You guys hungry?" He grinned at the two weary travelers. At this, Ryoma smirks. And Sakuno, she nods, appreciating unendingly, the university student's amiable character.

The two high school students were brought by their loud and spirited tour guide to a small curry restaurant a few blocks away from the station, in a road illy-lit. Sakuno and Ryoma, not knowing whether it was because of tire and hunger, thought, to the end of their days, that that curry they were served was the best they've ever eaten.

Later in the evening, when Ryoma went to the washrooms, Momoshiro smiles at a surprised Sakuno, making the girl feel conscious. "He's lucky, you know." The young man tells her out of the blue; his gaze, unfaltering. "That he has you around."

"It's just his luck, I suppose." Sakuno sighed, not understanding what Momo had meant; thinking the exact opposite. "To be stuck with me." Her voice hitches. The man beside her turns to her, bewildered. And she looks up at him pleadingly, lost, and on the verge of crying in defeat. "I don't know what to do, senpai. I don't know if it's just me, but there's something different about Ryoma-kun, something I can't figure out— I keep thinking and thinking-" She nearly breaks in frustration. Ryoma was so cool, so aloof; but as she's witnessed, there were moments when he'd break his facade. A feeling gnawed in her, telling her that something in him was amiss. But then again, she feared it was all in her mind.

"His future." Momoshiro ends her agony. Sakuno looks up at him with surprise in her eyes.

"His future?" She hastily adds. "What about his future? Is something the matter with him? What's wrong?" She was close to crying in worry, anxiety, horror.

"See." Momo smiles. "This is why he's lucky." He repeats himself. "Where can he find someone genuinely concerned about him?"

Sakuno breaks in an uneasy laughter, wiping the stray tears on her cheeks. To which Momo couldn't help but laugh, shaking his head at bad joke. "I'm," She chokes. "I haven't exactly been the best friend I could be to him."

At this, Momoshiro laughs. "I'm going to make a wild guess -" Sakuno's brows crease in confusion. "It isn't by your own fault, is it?"

Flustered, Sakuno quickly defends Ryoma, "It's just the way Ryoma-kun is, he doesn't need anyone's help. I mean, who am I even to him? He's a prodigy. He's incredible. Why would he need my help?"

"You don't know," He almost laughed at how bitter he felt. "You don't know how much you mean to him, do you?"

Sakuno's brows only crease further.

"I imagine it's difficult for him. But, then again, in all honestly, if I had half his luck," Momo looks at her and meets her eyes. For a second, Sakuno thinks she sees something behind his gaze. Then, he laughs and he looks away. "I'd die a happy man."

Sakuno averts her gaze, unable to carry the weight behind Momoshiro's. "You're amazing, Momo-senpai." She starts softly and smiles amidst herself. "Even though you hardly meet with Ryoma-kun, you know perfectly what he's going through."

"It's nothing like that. Far from it." He shakes his head. "I know the guy. He's being recruited to play overseas at the age of seventeen. He's already held the highest title you can ever get in the tennis profession. And at the age of sixteen at that. For someone like Ryoma, choosing tennis should be as easy as taking a breath. His doubt - his hesitation in deciding - should make it obvious that he doesn't want to return to that world - that he wants to conquer something else now. I'm betting all my money – and I have quite a lot of it –" They both chuckle at the joke. "That he'll be going to TU this time next year."

"Then, is that why he's back?" She had to ask. The reason of Ryoma's return had always eluded her. He never opens up, the young prodigy. "To enter into university?"

Momoshiro shrugs, "I can't be certain but that's where I'd bet my money on."

"Then," Sakuno hesitates. "Shouldn't we tell him?"

"No." The grinning Momoshiro said, resigned. "He has to realize this himself. If we tell him, I doubt he'll accept it. It's not obvious in the way he carries himself, but, Ryoma - he's still a stubborn boy."

"What are you talking about." Ryoma's voice came from afar. "Who's stubborn?"

Momo and Sakuno turned back to find their handsome prodigy frowning.

"Who do you think?" Momo gave him a nasty look before standing up and suddenly tackling him. To which Ryoma growled and tried shoving him back. Not knowing what to do, Sakuno tore in a panic behind them.

.

It's a minute to 9PM. And before they parted ways, now back in the station, Sakuno had to ask Momoshiro as he watched the incoming train slow down to a halt in front of them.

"Does everyone who enter university grow as mature as you have, Momo-senpai?"

Her senior fights back a smile.

"I'm not mature, Sakuno-chan." Then, he thinks it over. "Not yet." And, casting her a look, tells her with a small grin. "You should meet my upperclassmen." And he boards the train.

"I'll see you soon, baka-senpai!" Ryoma calls after Momoshiro. The university student turned and gave Ryoma a large grin.

"See you, baka o-chibi!"

Alone now in the near empty station, Ryoma smiles as he takes a step back. Beside him, Sakuno watched him, wondering what he was thinking, wondering if he was happy – hoping he was. Then, he turned to her and with his trademark smirk, said.

"Ryuzaki." The girl blinked, unaware of the blush filling her cheeks. "Thank you for coming with me." The boy finished with a reluctant yet genuinely grateful expression that brought a smile to her lips, one that never seemed to fade.

* * *

Momoshiro, Aged 18, first year university student, relocated to Nagoya, stayed in touch with Ryoma all these years but have never met up (Ryoma having been out of the country until now), he attended the same junior high and high school as Sakuno where they became good friends.

* * *

A few days later, during a lecture, Tomoka sent her a photo. The girl gestured to Sakuno's phone which the latter pulled out. It took a mere glance before her eyes widens in astonishment. Hands shaking and eyes still wide in utter amazement, she managed to send the image of Momoshiro on the cover of an online fashion blog and magazine to Ryoma.

A few seconds passed and, she bit back a laugh. All the young man replied was a "lol."


	5. Chapter Four

Disclaimer: I do not own the Prince of Tennis.

* * *

Ryoma was wearing a yukata when he opened the door. The surprised look on his face and his disheveled hair told her he wasn't expecting anyone – let alone the girl with perpetually flushed cheeks and a pair of wide doe-eyes looking up at him in surprise.

"I, um…" Sakuno stutters, trying to keep herself from gawking. "…Obaa-san wanted me to bring over some treats for you." Awkwardly, she raised the hand holding onto a red bag of traditional sweets. "I, um, I hope you like it." She smiles uneasily, unable to keep a straight face; which the young man in front of her didn't seem to notice.

With a stolid expression, Ryoma's head dips, eyes cast to the bag. "It's too much." His voice was hoarse in the morning, making Sakuno wonder if she woke him. He simply takes a step aside and invites her in into his home in residential girl meekly followed behind him, surveying the beautiful traditional Japanese house she once had the privilege of entering years ago. The furnishings looked similar to what she remembered, if not duller from the lack of illumination. Only natural lighting lit the long hallways of the household. On their walk to the receiving parlor, everything seemed untouched, as if no one had been inhabiting it for the past few weeks.

Eyes wandering, Sakuno is able to pinpoint the places in the household Ryoma frequented. And, in the den, she lightly jokes, gesturing to the coffee table littered with empty cup noodles and used chopsticks. "You're not the tidiest person, are you, Ryoma-kun?"

Ryoma scratches his head and, grumbles incoherently, something along the lines of, "Unannounced visit, woke me up, it's my house." as he starts clearing away the mess. At this, Sakuno starts to chuckle. Then, shifting her cross body bag, she helps her unamused trainer.

* * *

.

The Boy Who Stands Still

Chapter Four

.

* * *

They sat on the cushions in the open den that offered a view of the shrine where Nanjiroh would walk up to ring the gong back then. Ryoma took the seat beside her and served her tea in the traditional manner, surprising the girl holding her tea. In a lame attempt to start a conversation, Sakuno says, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to intrude."

The young man only shrugs, "It's too late for apologies, isn't it."

Flushing, Sakuno's mouth starts to flutter in embarrassment, about to apologize again when Ryoma just stops her with a shake of his head.

"I was kidding." He said rather dryly, still with a smirk on his lips.

After that, a bout of silence ensued.

Growing uneasy from the lack of conversation, Sakuno starts again, "I hear you're going to university?" The surprised look Ryoma gives her makes her eyes widen, "I didn't mean to pry." She shakes her head defensively. "I— um— Momo-senpai had mentioned it to me— in passing."

Ryoma didn't seem bothered. Aloof and nonchalant, he tells her simply, "It's nothing." Then, he stands and starts putting away the dishes. Awkwardly, Sakuno was left to stare at her empty hands, mentally kicking herself for the slip up.

When the boy returned, she looked up, about to apologize yet again, when Ryoma suddenly places an opened envelope next to her. The girl takes a breath, suddenly feeling faint as she took the letter written in embossed paper and read it. As she did, the boy sat on wooden floorboards, leaning against the pillar and staring at the pond before them. It had no koi fishes, only the clear water Ryoma replenished when he first returned.

"Have you decided?" Sakuno asks him softly, unable to look up as she set down the piece of paper, afraid of the affirmative answer Ryoma was sure to give her; afraid of knowing he was to decline the acceptance letter to leave again. Then she smiled to herself, looking up at the boy as he gazed outside. He never meant to stay. Momoshiro was wrong. Even she knew this would be his answer.

They remained silent, watching as the wild flowers and weeds swayed with the breeze. As time passed, they fell into a companionable silence, willfully choosing to forget their worries even if only temporarily.

"You should reply to them." Sakuno says after a while. "To decline, I mean." She smiled when he turned to her." So they can offer the slot to someone else." When Ryoma said nothing, she added – wanting to confirm her assumptions. "You are to continue competing professionally, aren't you?" She puts on an encouraging smile as a display of her support and unwavering devotion to his career – to him, her first love, her Ryoma-kun.

Ryoma slides to the ground, not knowing what to reply to the girl.

"I haven't decided." Resigned, he shifts to turn to her as he laid on the cold wooden floor. "But, I have to – soon." Then, he sat up abruptly, realizing. "What do you think I should do?"

"I—I—" Sakuno stuttered, feeling cornered. "You know I won't tell you, Ryoma-kun. It's your decision to make." She reprimands him lightly. Ryoma was about to turn away, irked, when the girl added. "But know that," He turns to look back at her. Sakuno's voice deepens with a confidence he couldn't place, a certain resolution in her words. "Whatever you choose, there's no right or wrong. Whatever you decide, you - please do your best to claim it as your own."

Ryoma is taken off guard by the conviction in her tone and finds himself nodding.

"I intend to."

When it was time for the girl to leave, Sakuno only smiled at him meekly. "Thank you for having me, Ryoma-kun." She bowed before searching for her shoes on the rack by the front door. "And for telling me. I'm sorry if it seemed like I was pressuring you." Her expression, guilty.

Ryoma watched, seeking to help if she needed any assistance as she arranged her things. And, before she left, he suddenly stopped her.

"You weren't." He says in a quiet tone. Sakuno only turns to smile at him so beautifully that, for a moment, his mood elates and his chest fills with warmth.

"I'll see you, Ryoma-kun." The girl bows, her hair falling over her face as she looked for her other shoe and slipped it on.

Ryoma stays rooted where he watched her closed the door behind her and wondered, from his sudden light-headedness and the uneasiness in his gut – whether this was it; the feeling of falling in love.

He returns to play with Karupin without knowing.

Later, when he pulls out the last of the sweets Sakuno brought over to place them in the refrigerator, he notices a red envelope in the bottom of the paper bag she left. His interest caught, he opens it and finds a number of fortune slips – all dictating he'd have the best of luck. He shakes his head back and laughs in disbelief at the girl's unchanging quirks.

Come Monday, Ryoma is back on his bench. It was six-ten in the morning and Sakuno was nowhere to be found. Ryoma stood from where he sat, irritated for the past fifteen minutes or so.

"You're late." He reprimanded the puffy girl, a scowl set on his handsome face. He was taken back when Sakuno only flashed him a wide grin, somewhat amazed by her absolute disregard to his evidently foul disposition. It was only when she lifted a magazine over her face that he understood why she was so happy. The same reason, as well, behind the downward spiraling he suddenly wrenching in his gut.

"I saw someone reading it on the train. I just had to get a copy!" Her expression was in genuine awe and excitement, it made Ryoma uneasy how much it seemed to matter to her – his popularity.

"Everyone in school was talking about it the other day," She laughed. "Congratulations Ryoma-kun!" She cheered, her cheeks red with glee. Handing him the magazine, she added ecstatically, "Did you know they were putting you on the cover?"

Ryoma looked back at himself, at the handsome face of the Japanese boy donning his signature white cap on the cover of the magazine – the infamous sixteen-year-old Grand Slam title holder. "It doesn't matter."

"Sorry?"

The young man looked up to find Sakuno's brows knit in confusion. "It's just a magazine."

Sakuno couldn't help but let out a disbelieving laugh.

"It's Time magazine, Ryoma-kun – an international magazine." She continued to laugh at his absence of emotion. "And you're on the cover! You're the 2017 Person of the Year!" Skimming through its pages, Sakuno remarked. "Even the few I know who get into magazines are only in local ones here in Tokyo." She glanced to him with a smile. "But then again," She chuckled to herself. "They're not you are they, Ryoma-kun?"

A smirk makes its way to his lips, noting, "You should stop spending so much time around Osakada."

This only makes Sakuno laugh. "Still," she forced, giving him the copy. "You have to learn to cherish these moments."

"No need. Keep your copy."

Sakuno only shook her head, then, smiling, pulled open her bag to show him several other copies of the magazine. Ryoma's eyes widened; his brows knit. He turned to her and she looked back, eyes widening in gradual realization; like a deer caught in the headlights.

"Why do you have five copies?" He coughed in amazement.

Red and embarrassed, Sakuno swallowed before stuttering in a mouthful. "I—I was going to -because, I um—" Then, before the astonished teen could keep teasing her, she dropped her bag and started with her laps.

Oddly enough, Ryoma ended up laughing. Left on his seat, a smirk makes its way to his features, thankful for the semblance of normalcy their morning routine gives him.

A few hours later, before Sakuno had to go to class, Ryoma had excused himself. The girl turned to follow the prodigy, her eyes watching him wave and jog toward intimidating men in suits. The exchange didn't last long.

"They were here before." She said, eventually approaching Ryoma. The two well-suited foreigners were familiar; the same individuals, in fact, she saw talking to Ryoma not so long ago. After all the days, she has spent in the game; beside the most sought-after tennis athlete, she came to realize just who those men were. She didn't turn to ask her friend what future they had in store for him nor whether or not he accepted their offer. Simply from the distant gaze of Ryoma, she knew nothing had come from the exchange – both for them, and especially for him. No agreement; no insight.

Beside her, Ryoma only nodded.

The next time they meet, Sakuno was coming back from the grocery when she accidentally runs into Ryoma on the way back home. The both of them were surprised at first. They didn't normally see each other outside training.

It is who Sakuno breaks the initial shock by giving Ryoma a big warm smile which, he doesn't know how to reciprocate.

"When I smile, Ryoma-kun," She finds herself laughing lightly at the constipated expression on his face. "It's only polite to smile back."

Ryoma huffed and couldn't help but smirk, eyes settling on Sakuno's brightening grin.

"Oh," She realizes, gesturing to the young man by her side. "This is Tomoya-kun." She starts to laugh. Then, teasing, proceeds to tell Ryoma, "He never believes me when I say I know you."

For the first time in what feels like forever, Ryoma turns his gaze and finds himself looking at a stranger. "Hn," He grunts in greeting then turns his attentions back at the ever obliging Sakuno.

"Hey," Tomoya nods back awkwardly. Then, having lost Ryoma's interest, scratches the back of his head out of sheer awkwardness, and tells Sakuno. "I guess I'll go, then."

Sakuno's brows furrow at Tomoya. "Are you sure?" Then, guilty, quickly adds, "I'm sorry for making you go so far out of your way."

Tomoya only smiles back, genuine, tender. "It's fine." Then, squeezing her hand, gives his farewell. "I'll see you tomorrow."

Both Sakuno and Ryoma's eyes follow Tomoya's back as he leaves. Then, Ryoma asks Sakuno, "Who is he?"

Sakuno's hazel eyes turn to him, brows furrowing in a growing suspicion. "My boyfriend." She answers.

"Your boyfriend?" Ryoma repeats, almost in such disbelief that it offends Sakuno. "How come," His low voice almost hitches; he wonders why the thought never occurred to him – her having a boyfriend. "—you've never told me?"

"Well," Sakuno's smile failed to reach her eyes. "You never asked."

He looks up. And for the first time since he's started training her all those weeks ago, he realizes she was right. All this while, he has thought so little of Sakuno that he never noticed the young man who would always show up after their sessions wearing a warm smile, waiting for her to finish packing her gear. That same person who sat in the bleachers beside Tomoka; who was also one of those familiar faces blurred in the background during Sakuno's victory party.

All this time, he's now come to realize, he thought of only himself. And the realization left a bitter taste in his mouth.

* * *

to be continued.


	6. Chapter Five

Disclaimer: I do not own POT.

A/N: A big shoutout to my reviewers and those in the RyoSaku fam! Glad to know you're still out there, somewhere, somehow.

* * *

Something was different between them. Although it was not evident in their routine, in their conversation, a distance between them had formed. It seemed as though whatever progress their relationship had reached stagnated suddenly, abruptly. And, as the young lady uneasily averted her gaze from Ryoma's for the nth time that morning, she knew it was he who drew a line between them; one that wasn't there before, one that neither dare cross.

"You got that, right?" There was a hint of annoyance in Ryoma's tone, reprimanding her for what he thought was lack of focus.

Sakuno only nodded stiffly in reply. Her gaze was running elsewhere.

"I shouldn't even be telling you this. Get your head in the game, will you?"

Doe eyes turned to him. A tear of sweat trickles down the side of her face. "All right." She breathes, wiping the sweat on the side of her head with the band around her wrist.

"It's a hot day. I don't want you in the court longer than you should." He finishes. "Wrap this game up."

At this, Sakuno huffs and, with a resolute expression, returns to the court where her opponent was already waiting.

A few minutes into the game, Ryoma shot to his feet, sweat dripping from the side of his face, about to curse to the heavens when he caught himself and simply turned to the steaming ground beneath him. The heat was scourging hot that day. And out on the arena, he knew that Sakuno was far into her limit.

"7-Point Tiebreak!" Called the umpire.

Sakuno wiped the sweat over her eyes. She was parched, her mouth dry, but she knew drinking water would do no change. She took a step forward, she knew she did, but it took a second before her body actually moved. Her senses were lagging. She shook her head, trying to get a hold of herself. She turns to the umpire, blinded by the sun behind him, and waits for his signal. But, it never came.

With her head spinning, it takes her a while before she notices a group of people running towards the other side of the court. Suddenly, she is hit and brushed aside from behind. And, as she thinks she's about to fall to her knees, a sturdy figure to her left steadies her and keeps her aright.

"It's this damn heat." Ryoma grits, his lips next to her ear. Then, he turns to her, surprised at the paleness of her face. "Can you make it to the bench?"

Sakuno blinks and thinks she nodded.

"What happened?" She asked, turning back to the other end of the court. "I can't see anything apart from everything glittering."

"Minomoto fainted."

"What?" Sakuno rasped in shock. And, before Ryoma is able to stop her, she pulls off his support – about to run to the other end of the court in anxiety – when she halts. The field before her seemed to have doubled in length. The next thing she knows, she is swept into Ryoma's arms and brought to their side of the court, where a cool wet towel was thrown to her.

"We can't have you fainting as well."

Sakuno looks up at Ryoma and, finding his expression dangerous, conceded.

Later, when she leaves the shower room, Ryoma is waiting outside. He himself had changed his clothes. With her hair damp, she stops before him, waiting for him to speak – to tell her the judge's decision. In her gut, she already knew what had come of the game. And, the instant Ryoma turns to her, her lips quiver and her eyes fill with tears. In her mind, all that registered was that it was over. All of it was over.

So, she cried.

With a sour taste in his mouth, Ryoma took a step forward and coaxed Sakuno's sobs into his embrace, finding the end, as it was, unwelcome.

* * *

.

The Boy who Stands Still

Chapter Five

.

* * *

Sakuno found it ironic; how the world continued to move when her life lost all meaning. It was unforgiving how it didn't matter to anyone that she lost a huge part of her life. It's been a day since she lost the competition. But her emotions felt as raw as the moment she first found out. She wanted nothing more than the world to stop turning; to pause for a moment while she coped with the loss. While she never expected to reach far into the tournament, she couldn't deny the fact that for a moment - she hoped, she believed she could win. Then, she guessed, maybe, that was just Ryoma's effect on her - that with enough perseverance, anything was attainable.

Gaze lowering to the dirt path she took to the shrine, she realized that he thought wrong. His confidence in her could only get her so far. Because, unlike him, she didn't have his skill, his talent. She had nothing.

And, she sighed, finally looking up, it was time she accepted this. Placating herself, Sakuno decided then and there, that she would stay within her means. Now, she could be a better girlfriend; she could go on dates in a moment's notice and return the sacrifices Tomoya's made for her when she first started in the tournament. She could hang out with Tomoka more and enjoy their last year in high school together; maybe double date. And, Ryoma - her brows rise, her gaze meeting familiar Cheshire eyes; striking, handsome. By the entrance of the shrine, amid waves of people stood Ryoma donning a yukata. His hair was astray; his demeanor aloof. By the stone staircase leading to the shrine, her initial surprise turns into a smile on her pink lips, wondering when the young man would stop surprising her. She never would have imagined he'd wear traditional clothes in public. "I can only wonder how Tomo talked you into coming; let alone in a yukata." Then, she remembered she saw him once wearing a yukata at his home.

The young man shrugged, a smirk playing on his handsome features. "It's comfortable."

Sakuno's smile stiffens, averting her gaze; a light blush touching her cheeks. Then, regaining her composure, tells him good-natured, "You look handsome."

Ryoma only quirks a brow at her. And, finds himself smirking. "Where's Yoshino?"

"Tomoya-kun?" Sakuno repeated in surprise. "He already made plans." Her voice was soft, not loud enough for Ryoma to hear. Not that he really cared to listen. He had already turned away and proceeded to the shrine where Tomoka and Kaidoh was waiting for them.

"What is this?!" Tomoka cried as the pair approached her, indignantly gesturing to Sakuno's casual clothing. "Where's your kimono?! Tell me you brought a change of clothes!"

The timid girl sighed and stole a glance at Kaidoh in hopes of knowing how to reply to appease her best friend. Of course, the university student had none to give.

"I came from an errand." Sakuno lamely made up. And Tomoka only gave her a disbelieving glare.

"Let's go." Ryoma cut in with a whine. Still unmoved, Tomoka turned her glare at Ryoma and was soon led away by Kaidoh's gentle tug.

"Fine." She conceded. And soon enough, she was engrossed with Kaidoh.

"Sorry." Sakuno whispers in passing at Ryoma as she took a few quick steps to walk alongside her best friend.

Before him, Ryoma watched as the auburn-haired girl giggling, whispering (what he suspected to be) a litany of apologies to Tomoka who only started laughing. The closeness between the three of them, Sakuno, Kaidoh and Tomoka in between, brought an odd sensation to his gut. And for a moment, he pauses in his step, a feeling akin to envy fills him.

"Ryoma-kun?" Sakuno calls to him, her face etched in worry.

He looks up and his lips quirk into a smirk. Sakuno always looked worried. "Walk with me." Ryoma simply says. And, Sakuno nods with a smile.

Though out of spirits, the brunette forced enthusiasm for the sake of company. Eyes wandering from booth to booth, her lips quirk at the sight of a spirit mask. She strayed from the group who didn't seem to notice. At the bazaar, she was about to buy a mask for the unenthused Ryoma but hesitated. She later opted to buy yakitori.

Unknown to her, Ryoma was behind her.

"Ryoma-kun." She greets in surprise, having thought he was with Tomoka and Kaidoh and away from the crowd. The handsome young man only looks down at her and she looks away, a flush making its way to her cheeks. When they made their purchase, they returned to where they left the couple. Only, the said couple was no longer there. "Let's wait for them here, neh?"

Ryoma only nods. They were quiet as they ate. The buzzing crowd was enough to fill the void of their silence.

"Tomoya-kun couldn't make it because he had to visit his parents." Sakuno suddenly says, much to Ryoma's surprise. The boy only nods, not knowing where she was heading at. "It's good, really. I mean," A self-deprecating laugh escaped her lips. "I don't know how to tell him I'm out of the tournament." Then, her cheeks flushing in humiliation as she absentmindedly played with her food. "And after telling him how hard we've been working." Her voice nearly broke.

Ryoma's brows creased. It was painful to listen to her. She was quick to revert to her old ways. The confidence she had gained over the past weeks vanished with a snap of a finger.

"What must he think of me?" When she looks up to him; when Ryoma meets her self-pitying stare, he released a frustrated sigh.

"Ryoma-kun," She starts. "I'm so sorry."

Ryoma's brows rise in genuine surprise, not understanding.

"For wasting your time." Still not getting it, Sakuno continued. "Because I lost."

At this, Ryoma only frowns, close to reprimanding her for apologizing when she didn't need to. So, instead, he simply grits, "Ryuzaki." And tries to keep himself from saying something he'd soon regret. Sakuno, in her vulnerable state, was not in a position to catch his foul way of address.

Thankfully, Tomoka and Kaidoh were back. The girl was carrying a teddy bear, and Kaidoh was sporting flushed cheeks. Seeing them, Ryoma rolled his eyes while Sakuno kept herself from squeaking.

After praying at the shrine, the group was divided by the long line behind them. For the second time that night, Sakuno and Ryoma were left to stand idly by the side, waiting for the couple happy lazing around in their own bubble. Sakuno, of course was happy for her best friend. But Ryoma, he could only fathom why Tomoka invited him along in the first place.

"Ryuzaki." Sakuno, who had been lost in her own thoughts, turned to Ryoma in surprise. "I appealed for re-assessment."

Sakuno's eyes widen and her brows start to knit in confusion. And Ryoma just looks ahead, nonchalant as he took a sip from his cup of hot rice wine. The hands of the girl holding the cardboard container of her own drink start to tremble. A rage swelled in the pit of her stomach.

"What?" She asks with a shaky voice. The taste in her mouth starts to sour. Then, she urged in a higher tone when Ryoma refused to speak. "Why did you do it?" She almost cries in utter disbelief.

Initially surprised by her tone of voice, Ryoma finally turns to face her with a straight expression; as if merely a matter of fact. "Because I know you wouldn't."

At this, Sakuno flushes red and before she is able to say anymore, Ryoma stands up and walks towards the couple waving over for them.

Sakuno is behind the group, not knowing where they were headed, seething and staring daggers at Ryoma's back. Her grief was quick to turn into emnity. Not wanting to cause a scene in front of the happy couple, she kept to herself and was battling between just leaving or confronting her unsympathetic trainer. She decided for the latter. It was unthinkable what he's done. She lost. There was nothing more to it than that.

When Tomoka and Kaidoh decided to play a game, as they walked away, Ryoma turned to Sakuno, knowing she had a mouthful to say. Oddly enough, she only glared at him, as if waiting for him to speak; to apologize.

"What?" Is all he bites. And Sakuno's glare deepens.

"You had no right to do it." She seethes. "And without even consulting with me!"

Ryoma just sighs.

"You're irrational."

"And you're a prick!"

It was Ryoma's turn to glare at her.

"What did you expect me to do?"

"Nothing!" Ryoma scoffed, exasperated. "I need you to stop— pause for just one second!" She ends up crying, her cheeks flushed red. "I lost already! Give it up, please! Take back the appeal!"

"If you stop now, you'll have a difficult time getting your head back into the game." Ryoma lashes at her, surprised by the intensity of his tone. He takes a step back, running a hand through his hair in an attempt to cool down. "You're the one who needs to wake up. You shouldn't have lost. The game didn't even end."

"But— I— _did._ I lost, Ryoma-kun!" She cries in frustration – at Ryoma, at the tournament, at herself. She turned away, looking as if she was about to walk away. But, she turned back to face him, a finger pointed angrily. "You shouldn't have done it." She practically yells at him. "You had no right to meddle! And without even asking me!" She repeated in indignation.

Defensive, Ryoma answers with the same heavy tone. "I was there. Your shots were cleaner. Undeniably, the point when the game ended was a close one – but, your advantage was clear. There's no question you should have won."

"You're wrong! She caught my slices perfectly and managed to alter the spin – that's why she scored as much as I did. And – I used my backhand even when I shouldn't have!"

Ryoma tried to keep from laughing at how senseless she was being. "That has nothing to do with the point-system – that's your playing style! Besides, you did them to catch her slices. Perfectly like how I taught you. That's why three out of your twelve points bounced out of the court in record time, before she could even take a step to stop it!"

"Cut it out!" Sakuno's hand angrily slices through the air between them and laughed bitterly. "We both know what you really think of my playing."

The boy raised his brows. "What?"

Sakuno continues to laugh self-deprecatingly.

"All of this is a lie, isn't it?" She says with a semblance of finality. At this, Ryoma's expression sobers. "You're doing this because it wouldn't have sat well with you, would it?" She looks away, unable to face him any longer. Unshed tears start stinging her eyes, and her voice grows coarse. "To have coached a loser."

Her eyes challenged him to deny her claim, to prove her wrong. She was so sure he wouldn't. She had never been so certain about anything in her life.

Biting her lip, eyes trembling and brimming with unshed tears, she - no longer knowing what to tell him, just now taken in utter disbelief at Ryoma's insensitivity - turned and walked away; leaving Ryoma standing there in astonishment at how little she thought of herself.

Before Ryoma leaves later in the evening, he turns back to Sakuno who looked up at him with dread in her eyes, afraid how he, of all people, could see right through her.

"Quit then." Sakuno's eyes tremble at the stillness of his tone, grave and biting. "You're right. There's no point to all of this."

Sakuno swallows the voice lodged in her throat. And her eyes stings with unshed tears.

"There's no point until you quit undermining yourself." He tells the coward before him. Her hazel doe eyes cast down in obvious disgust; frustrated at her shameful lack of self-confidence. "If not yourself, who else do you expect will help you? Support will come and go. But, your whole life, you'll have to live with yourself. How can you live your whole life with someone who doesn't believe in you?"

Sakuno is in an absolute blank. Her mouth was dry. And Ryoma words rang in her ears.

As he walked away, had she not been in the middle of a crowd, her tears of frustration, the same ones now pooling in the corners of her eyes, would've poured into a mess of sobs. How many times must she make a fool of herself in front of Ryoma? She thought in utter shame.

That night, as Ryoma walked away, she didn't doubt it would be the last he'd see of him; not in the courts, not at his home; nowhere. There was no longer anything linking them together. There was no reason, no relation, that would induce Ryoma to see a spineless coward like her.

* * *

To be continued.

* * *

A/N: Sakuno was adamant against the appeal Ryoma made because she was afraid of the result - she was afraid of being rejected, of losing a second time. She'd rather not try to avoid any chance of getting hurt - at the price of success. Obviously, she wants to continue in the tournament. She entered it and for the longest time, managed by; she's happy playing tennis, with her progress, her growth. It's just that she has no belief in herself, thinks so little of herself, so insecure, that she'd rather stay in a bubble than truly live the life she wants and face the challenges that come with it.


	7. Chapter Six

Disclaimer: I do not own the Prince of Tennis. If I did, it would be a little more like this fic...

* * *

It was later in the night that Sakuno receives a message from Ryoma, stating as a matter of fact that their appeal was granted; that she was still in the tournament. She gets this text in the evening, after her shower. And, in her pajamas, she slides down against the back of her bedroom door; a wash of a million emotions consumed her – shame, guilt, anger, confusion, relief, – gratitude. As she held her phone to her heart, she was trembling and close to tears. Curling to a ball, the weight in her chest unbearable, she started to sob. All she could think of was Ryoma and how much he has given her. He was so amazing, so incredible. With him, it was as though nothing was ever impossible. Lips quivering, she told herself, how, how could she not fall in love with him; when, with him, she could become the person she always dreamt to be.

The next morning, when she enters their training court, she isn't surprised to see Ryoma in his usual bench. And when he looks up and sees her approaching, she gives him a small, tired smile and waves in greeting.

"You don't have your gear." Ryoma notes.

Sakuno only sits beside him on the bench, wearing a thick jacket over her shirt and shorts, her wavy auburn hair running free over her shoulders. Wiping the weariness from her face with her hands, sighing in a deep breath, she tells him, facing him with remorse in her glistening doe-eyes. "I'm so sorry, Ryoma-kun."

"It's nothing." He simply replies, thinking she was too close.

At this, Sakuno only smiles, wholly expecting he'd simply brush off her apology. Then, without impetus, she is surprised when Ryoma continues.

"When you feel like quitting," He starts. "Just remind yourself why you joined the competition in the first place." Then, a thought passed his mind. Shifting to face her, he asks; realizing that all this time, he never did bother to. "Why did you?"

Sakuno's eyes widen at his question. But, she doesn't hesitate, averting her eyes from his, saying, "Remember when you were first starting?" A reminiscent smile tugs on her lips. "When the whole world rooted against you; no one knew your name when you were mixed in with those foreigners. Everyone dismissed you because you were only thirteen years old. Then, with every tournament, you proved them wrong. Back then," She remembers fondly. "Everyone would watch together at Kawamura-senpai's sushi restaurant. It was like the team was competing with you whenever you took to the courts." Then, her expression changes. Her smile grows and a light in her eyes start to shine. "So many people look up to you, Ryoma-kun – including me."

A blush touched Sakuno's cheeks. And, turning to him, to a surprised, astounded Ryoma, she admitted; her smile that was brighter than the sun blinding him, enveloping his chest with a warmth, with a feeling so foreign, it unnerves him. "That's why I joined the competition." Her eyes glitter, glad to be finally telling him. "Because of you; I wanted to know how far I could make it."

* * *

.

The Boy Who Stands Still

Chapter Six

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* * *

Staring out the parted windows inside their classroom, each leaning on the open ledges, the two senior high school students watched as the breeze ruffled the branches of leaves before them. The atmosphere was peaceful, sublime. Most of their classmates were in the mess hall for their lunch break. It was one of those rare moments when time seemed to have slowed down, when it felt like they had all the time in the world to dream, to speak, to pause.

With her hazel eyes gazing out into the soccer field, Sakuno says in a breath, eyes following the ball being kicked from one player to the next, "I think Tomoya-kun is going to break up with me." rather softly, squarely, aloof. Even as she said this, she feels nothing. No anger, no grief. And, she only smiles when Tomoka leans further over the ledge to cast a disbelieving expression her way.

At this, Tomoka's face starts to crease, her brows knit together so comically that Sakuno starts to chuckle. "Why?" Came her friend's pitch-y tone, almost reprimanding her for such nonsense.

"I don't think he even knows it's our monthsary tomorrow." Sakuno adds. "Not that I can blame him."

"He's not going to break up with you." Tomoka tells her with certainty.

"Honestly," Sakuno slouches over the window, head dipping. "I don't mind if we broke up. I'm actually surprise he's stuck around this long."

Her well-cropped brows knit lower, thinking, seeing something behind the façade of aloofness in her friend's expression. "Sakuno…" Tomoka's tone lowers, cautious, in alarm. "Don't tell me;" She shakes her head in fear for her friend. "Not again…"

Sakuno's eyes widen as she turns to face Tomoka's chastising frown. Shaking her head, she quickly shuts the idea she knew was hovering in her friend's head. "It's just that - I think I train too much."

The girl nods; a smile forming on her glossed lips. "It's pretty funny actually," Tomoka starts to laugh. "How things turned out."

Sakuno's lips quirk. And, with a bittersweet smile on her face, she nods along; herself in disbelief as she compares her life now to when she was a starry-eyed twelve-year-old.

"After all the years you spent pining for him," Tomoka chuckles, "You now spend every day with Ryoma."

With a lazy smile, Sakuno tells her friend, "He actually called me out on that before." Tomoka's brow quirks. "That I should stop training with him if I was doing it just because I had a crush on him."

"He didn't!" Tomoka couldn't help but cry in astonishment. "You can't be saying the truth!" Then, she starts laughing again, making Sakuno follow in chuckles. "He knew? How the hell does he know? Maybe I should give him more credit. I really thought he was just _that_ naïve!"

"Apparently not." Sakuno shakes her head with a lingering smile. "He's called me out on a lot of things actually." Then, her mood changes, her tone dips, more serious. "I have so many issues I have to deal with. I hope," She pauses, gaze rising. "I hope Tomoya-kun won't hate me for it."

"He won't." Tomoka says supportively, a feeling akin to guilt creeping in her; thinking that maybe, all these years, she's been unhealthily coddling Sakuno's insecurity. Then, she wonders; where Ryoma got the confidence or rather, shamelessness to speak so decisively, without hesitation, about someone he barely knew. "He really is a good guy. And," Her eyes flicker back to Sakuno's expectant gaze and smiles. "You do really like him."

"I," Sakuno hesitates, unable to stop herself, Ryoma's handsome face, his boyish smirk, comes to mind. "I really do."

"You know," Tomoka starts. "If you have nothing planned for tomorrow, you could surprise him with a gift. We can go downtown after school."

At this, Sakuno's eyes starts to shine; "Okay." She nods; forever thankful for the guidance Tomoka's graced her with all these years. And as she did, she put it all aside, locked in the farthest, most recess corner of her mind - that tiny, inconsequential affection she had for the tennis prodigy that managed to linger around her all these years.

.

In the next morning, Ryoma, chipper; happier with the new dynamic he's reached with Sakuno, was actually looking forward to the day's practice session. He felt more comfortable around her; to teasing her more than he would coach actually.

That early hour, as he walks to the courts, with a disbelieving smirk on his lips at the thought of looking forward to seeing the girl with the long braids, he pushes the gates to the courts and, finds himself pause at the sight before him.

"Ah," Sakuno's gaze turns to the opened gate. Cheeks tinted and eyes glassed with water. A small smile on her pink lips. "Good morning, Ryoma-kun." She greets the newcomer.

"Hn." Ryoma nods at her and his gaze tries not to linger on the bouquet of flowers on her lap.

"I guess I should leave you two to train." Tomoya excuses himself to his reluctant girlfriend.

"Why don't you stay?" Sakuno offers, refusing to let go of his hand. "You came all this way, and so early in the morning."

At this, Tomoya only laughs, shaking his head. And Ryoma looks back at them from where he set down his gear. "That won't do." He tells the blushing girl. "You know how easily I distract you." He grinned cheekily, much to Sakuno's embarrassment.

Before Tomoya could dodge her, she had already slapped his hand playfully. "You are so annoying." She said it in a hushed voice, trying to keep herself from smiling. "See you later, then." She just looks up at him from her seat.

"Bye." Tomoya smirks at her, squeezing her hand before turning to nod at Ryoma. "See you."

When Tomoya left, when Sakuno placed her bouquet carefully beside her bag, as she tightened her shoelaces before setting off to start her warm ups, with a small smile, she tells Ryoma, like a girlfriend filling in another girlfriend with the juicy details, "It's our one-month anniversary." She couldn't help but grin. "He surprised me. He's—" Her heart fills with the thought, "He's so sweet, neh?" The wide smile on her face wouldn't ease.

Ryoma only looks back at her with an aloof expression on his face, not really knowing what she expected him to say. So, he said nothing and proceeded to the vending machine.

Sakuno just watches him walk away, not at all bothered by his coldness. And, with her face still flushed and her chest still giddy, she leans down, embraces the bouquet in her arms, and breathes in its sweet scent; thankful and over the moon happy, to have someone she was certain loved her back.

Ryoma grimaced; pulling himself away from the bitter recollection. Eyes falling to the damp napkin to his side, he says, his gaze returning to the present, to the cafe where Kaidoh and Tomoka, the absentee employee, worked. "It's been odd finding everyone's changed."

The barista checked the liquid in the measuring cup before him. And, pouring its contents to fill a new order, kept himself from scowling. "A lot has happened these five years you've been away, Echizen." Kaidoh tells him soberly. "If you still haven't understood until now, there is no helping you." Idle cat-like eyes hovered around the café, his companion was now preoccupied with taking orders from an elderly couple who couldn't make out the French names on the menu.

The young man held his head at the bitter realization. He knew they all changed. He wasn't a fool. It's just that, maybe, he wasn't ready to accept it. Maybe, in some degree, he wanted to stay deluded. Maybe, he did return to Tokyo with a misapprehension that everything would be the same; that there was still a part of his life he could hold on to. But, as he watched his upperclassman work with such care and skill for a job that would somewhat cushion his university fees, he knew he couldn't have been more wrong.

His thoughts continue wander. And he recalls the last time he saw Momoshiro, when the latter visited his family in Tokyo a few days ago. The pair was loitering in front of Momo's house when Ryoma chooses to say, "You and Ryuzaki have become good friends." Lately, he finds himself thinking of her a time too often.

Momoshiro looks back at him in surprise, not knowing where the thought had come from. With a smile lacing his lips, the taller teen muses as if it's the first time he's thought of it. "I guess you're right." Then, Momo continues, growing reminiscent. "She helped manage the male's team for a while in junior high." A smile forming, "Then, we moved on to high school and there was one team. Although the genders were segregated, we continued to work together. Going in, I knew only a fool would fall for her. It's not obvious, but it was there."

"What was?" Ryoma looks up to his senior. There, he finds Momo's eyes unwavering, serious, and blatantly truthful.

"The way she would be when it was about you." He says. "She is nothing if not certain."

"Certain about what?"

The university student turns to him with a pitying smile, one that couldn't understand how ignorant he still was. "You." He jabs his friend's shoulder with a finger. Then, a thought occurs to Momo, one that makes him laugh.

Ryoma looks away with a disbelieving expression on his face, an aloof smirk on his lips. "How can you say that when she's dating someone else?"

"Do you like her?" He finally asks.

Ryoma's gaze lowers. And unsurely, he replies, "I don't know." Then, turning to Momoshiro, changes his answer, "I hope not." He says with a wry smile.

Momoshiro's lips spread into a small smile. "You should do it too." He added later as an afterthought.

The young man beside him doesn't understand.

Brows raised as he casually leaned back, Momoshiro clarifies. "Put yourself out there. Date."

Ryoma only chuckles. "Wouldn't everyone just love that."

"You have an incredible ego." Momoshiro rolls his eyes. To wit, Ryoma laughs.

Then, suddenly, he says after a while; after the sound of his laughter flitters away with the cold night's breeze, "I think," He says softly, "I do, though."

Nodding, Momoshiro sighs beside him, and their gazes meeting, smiles unsurely. "I think you do too." Then, looking up to the night sky, his voice drifts when he says, "There's no reason why you wouldn't."

A cup shattering, falling on the wooden floor tears Ryoma from his reverie. Gaze turning to the source of the noise, he found the elderly couple just laughing and apologizing at a rather obliging Kaidoh. And, finding it odd, Ryoma wonders when his severe-looking senior started to seem softer, approachable.

His senior was right. He had to wake up. Everyone was moving on, whereas he was sitting in a restaurant halfway around the globe from where he's supposed to be.

* * *

To be continued.


	8. Chapter Seven

Disclaimer: I do not own PoT.

* * *

For the nth time that week, Sakuno came to practice late and tired from the evident lack of sleep. Her apologies would only get her so far. And, even though she didn't tell Ryoma, he knew what was keeping her from focusing. "You're late; again." He called her out the moment she pushed her way through the gates of the court. The sorry expression on her face just irritated him further.

"I'm sorry." Came her routine apology as she set down her bag beside him. "Last night just went past me. My schoolwork has piled up." She cast a small smile his way; her guilty eyes giving away her lie.

"Maybe," Ryoma starts, consciously trying to temper his tone as he rose from his seat. "If you kept to your schedule, instead of wasting your time going on dates; you'd manage to keep up with your regimen." He was quick to bite; earning a stunned, disbelieving look from Sakuno. "The final match is in two weeks." The young man continues to berate her; unable to stand the irk he felt towards her. Then, he picks up his gear, something he rarely brought, which surprises Sakuno. And he tells her rather spitefully before walking out on her, his brows furrowed, his piercing eyes in a glare, "Try to keep it in your pants till then."

* * *

.

The Boy Who Stands Still

Chapter Seven

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* * *

Sakuno rolled her eyes at the message that popped on the locked screen of her phone. Ryoma sent her another message, reminding her to go home right after class; that they had an early day tomorrow. With a bitter frown, the girl thought; as if she didn't already know.

Try to keep it in your pants. She could still hear him tell her.

Her trainer was tireless. For days now, he's been hounding her to perform better; pushing her limits more than before. While the girl initially welcomed the shift of interest in her practice routine, she quickly found out how much of a stickler Ryoma could be. As much as she wanted to improve, she never considered putting a halt in everything else going on in her life just for the sake of winning.

It was a Sunday and Sakuno stops on her steps, peers out her window to the street below, and finds herself glaring. True enough, when she went down to the kitchen for breakfast, Ryoma was there, breaking bread with her grandmother.

"Ohaiyo, obaa-san." She smiled meekly, leaning to peck her grandma on the cheek. Then, her eyes drifted to Ryoma and, catching herself, gave him a cold look as she pulled out her chair.

"You didn't show up."

Stiffly, Sakuno replied. "I told you I wouldn't." Then, reached out for the natto. As she did, Ryoma didn't fail to cast the foul-smelling dish a disgusted look.

"I tried contacting you." His tone dipped. "You never answered."

The girl put down her bowl and narrowed her eyes dangerously at the young man before her.

"I didn't want to talk to you."

"I waited for an hour."

"I never-"

"You went on a date instead. Again." Sakuno's eyes widen; gaze darting to her grandmother just in the living room. "The old hag told me." Ryoma says in passing, absentmindedly playing with the toast on his plate.

"It's none of your business." She says with less conviction, not knowing where the guilt was coming from.

"I don't understand how you can be so lax in the final competition."

Sakuno's face paled at his insinuation.

"I am not lax." She cried defensively, in indignation. "I just happened to take a break, Ryoma-kun." She huffed, her cheeks flushed with red. "Just because you breathe tennis, it doesn't mean I have to as well."

Ryoma scowls at her.

"What is that supposed to mean?" He asks her, his tone dangerous.

"You don't know how to have fun!" Sakuno cried. Then, her eyes dart away, hesitating. "You don't even have a girlfriend; let alone date."

"What does that have to do with anything?"

"To have fun, Ryoma-kun, you have to socialize. This is why you're hopeless! You don't know how to speak with anyone about anything that doesn't have anything to do with tennis!"

Ryoma's eye twitched.

"I'm not hopeless." And, before Sakuno could speak, added. "I can find myself a girlfriend anytime."

"Then get one!"

"I don't want one!"

"Well, then, I don't want you to coach me anymore!"

"Why the hell not?!"

"Because it's suffocating being around you!" Ryoma blinked, taken aback. "Why don't you compete in tournaments yourself? What are you still doing in Japan in the first place? Why are you even helping me?" She throws air quotes at the word "helping." "Is it because you're just bored?! Well, I don't need your help – I'm not your pity case! I was perfectly happy training and playing my own way! I never even wanted to win! It has always been you! Imposing and imposing your standards on me! Pushing and pushing me to train day in and day out! Why don't you get a life? You're in my dining room at eight in the morning on a Sunday, Ryoma-kun – making me practice for a game I've been preparing for since day one! If that doesn't define how aimless your life is, I don't know what does!"

Sakuno blinks, eyes watering, as her gaze immediately falls to the table. Her mouth is dry; her lips, chapped. Her words echo in her ears. She felt frozen, unable to face the young man who, amid everything, selflessly went out of his way to train her this past month. As much as she wanted to, regret filling her gut, she couldn't take back her words. And she knew, she knew she shouldn't.

Then, with her voice coarse, she is tired when she adds in a low rasp. "It's been tiring being around you." Then, she looks at him, almost begging. "I don't know how much more I can take."

The room was deathly silent that she only now realized how quickly her heart was beating, how loudly her pulse pumped through her veins. A part of her wanted Ryoma to lash out at her, to tell her how selfish she was being. But Ryoma didn't. She knew he wouldn't.

"I - " He spoke. Or, at least Sakuno thought he did. "All right."

She hears him stand. And she barely hears his voice as he thanks her for the meal, he may even have apologized for his behavior. She doesn't look up from that one spot on the table, the splotched one she marked accidentally when she was eleven.

She doesn't know when he left exactly. She only hoped that he was no longer there when she finally broke down in tears.

.

When the next morning came, they resume training as if nothing happened. Ryoma refused to acknowledge Sakuno's outburst. And Sakuno was too ashamed to bring it up. They continue their routine with detachment, with an invisible line neither could cross. Both were determined to finish the session without addressing what needed to be addressed. Although it was evident that there was truth in Sakuno's words, neither wanted to take the first step into something so sensitive that could ruin the friendship they've built.

"Oi!" A voice from outside the court catches the pair's attention. "If it isn't our favorite team!"

Both Ryoma, lying on his bench, and Sakuno, pausing in the court, holding onto a tennis ball, start to scowl at the comment dripping with sarcasm.

"Is this for real?" The girl from the restaurant laughs in disbelieve and pity. "Is he sleeping while she's training? Talk about sloppy training!" At this, her friends laugh, the huge high school student and another guy. "It's no wonder she's been lagging behind the competition. A miracle, even! That she's still in it!"

"Please just leave." Sakuno tells them both imploring and with ire. The vicious girl didn't mind her though and continued prattling on about her crappy tennis-playing skills. Channeling her out, knowing nothing good would come of reprimanding the group, Sakuno continues with her practice. Setting herself to the side, and dribbling the tennis ball; she makes her service. And, as she was about to take a step to catch its return; a howling laughter makes her miss her footing and trip. This only makes the laughter ring out more deafeningly amid the quiet of the early morning.

"This is really sad, neh? I wonder if this was the "rigorous training" he had to go through under his own father?" One laughed hysterically.

"Zero involvement, zero care."

"Explains why his son turned out to be such a dick, right?" They laughed. "Now, I kind of pity him too."

"Wasn't his father a pro in his day?"

One rolls their eyes. "That old fart was a joke. His father competed with mine in his prime and ate dirt." She laughed.

They stop, seeing Ryoma get up from where he sat. The group of bitter tennis players watched him with caution as he raised a hand from which a neon tennis ball came from. And with a swift hit from his racket, the neon ball hit the dark green chain separating them, it's metal ringing from the strength of the impact. "Let's settle this." Spits Ryoma's cold voice. "Get fucking in here."

In the distance, Sakuno's voice breezed by in a worried hush, "Ryoma-kun," She cautioned, hesitant.

After a passing instant of shock, the larger teen was the first to break free from his initial surprise. And with a scoff and a shrug, he casually rests his racket over his broad shoulder and proceeded to enter Court 6, Sakuno and Ryoma's regular court. Soon, he was followed by his compatriots.

Watching them, an eerie quiet fills the vicinity, Sakuno's grip on her racket tightens. The sweat on temple trickles down the side of her face. She positions herself, leans forward, with a steady foot at the ready as the larger teen positioned himself at the opposite side of the court. In the back of her mind, she wondered whether she could take him. He was a mammoth of a man. No doubt, his hits would overpower her. But, then, she couldn't let them go. Their words echoed in her mind. She would beat them – these lousy, shameless lowlifes. She would show them their place. She would make them pay for what they said about her; what they said about Ryoma.

Suddenly though, Ryoma was beside her. And with a raise of his hand, gesturing to the benches, he said, "Sit."

Sakuno's brows furrow in confusion. Ryoma shouldn't be playing in a public space.

Before them, the larger teen's face creased in confusion and worry; realizing that Ryoma would be taking him on. No matter, he thought. That ass hasn't been playing for weeks. He was dead, as far as any sports journalist was concerned. Why should he matter to him now?

Then, even before he was given the signal, Ryoma positioned his racket and spun it. With the letter at the stem of the grip overturned, Ryoma took his racket back on hand, pulled a neon tennis ball from his pocket. And, with the large teen waiting in a breathless, unending second, makes his service; the infamous twist serve.

In less than a split second, the large teen, unable to anticipate where the service would end up as it sped into his court, suddenly found the neon ball in between his two feet, and, eyes widening in disbelief – in horror – saw the same ball bounce up towards his face. The next thing he knew, he was falling back on the floor – his nose throbbing from pain. And his chest, his face, burning in humiliation.

He was seething, eyes glaring at the floor, and, he freezes, seeing droplets of blood before him, red against the deep green shade of the court.

"15-love." He hears Ryoma call detachedly in disbelief. He looks up, unable to form a coherent thought. And he freezes at the cold expression on his opponent's face. "Get up." Ryoma was quick to tell him, already dribbling the tennis ball, preparing for another service.

The young Goliath doesn't know what came over him, he wasn't even thinking when he complied and got up on his feet. It was as if he was in a trance, hypnotized by Ryoma.

Again, the tennis prodigy, the sixteen-year-old grand slam champion, without precaution, without ministrations, simply and straightforwardly makes his service. And again, the larger teen is hit on the same spot on his face even after having tried to scramble away from the impact.

"What the fuck is this!" The girl from the benches cries in horror. "Get that shit to stop!" She orders a stunned Sakuno.

Never in her life had she seen Ryoma so altered, so out of it. Sakuno couldn't believe he was the same person.

"Get fucking up." Came Ryoma's icy voice. And again, and still, the large teen gets up on his feet. The racket he held was trembling in front of him.

"Why the hell are you following him, Mamura?!" The girl, livid, shrieked.

Still, Ryoma made his service. And once again, Mamura fell on his back, his nose, now bent. And his face, ridden with wet, jellied blood.

"Enough!" The girl cried, rushing to her light-headed friend who was trying to stand up again.

On the opposite side of the court, Ryoma looked on with such a dead and cold expression that the girl just cried. "You're sick!"

Ryoma didn't seem to hear her. And instead, spoke on his own. "Fucking know your place."

With that, the three scampered away, biting their lips in humiliation and fear. Their friendship faltered after that incident. The three avoided each other in the corridors of their school, confusing their classmates; they had been so close before. No one, none of them talked about their horrific incident with the Grand Slam champion. One blamed the others, you shouldn't have said those things. One blamed the others, you're a big guy, how the hell was he able to hit you like that. An awkwardness filled what once was friendship. A remorse, a horrid memory each of them wanted nothing more than to just forget.

When Ryoma turned around, he found himself looking back at horrified doe eyes. A guilt hit him, having forgotten Sakuno had been just behind, that she saw everything. He himself was at a lost as to what came over him. Ashamed of his actions, he cast his gaze down and turned away.

"Ryoma-" Sakuno's voice was soft and worried; guilty. She stopped, afraid to ask, to hear him affirm her dread. Was it because of me, of what I said? …Is it me you really hate? She thought in alarm, in a gut-wrenching remorse that made her freeze where she was; that made her extremities cold and sweaty; that made her jaw lock; unable to reach out to him, unable to ask.

"Gomen," Ryoma just says before turning away and taking off so abruptly. He ran from the courts, leaving Sakuno there, stunned and trembling in self-loathing, in confusion.

In the middle of the court, with her brows creased and her eyes filling with hot tears, she falls to her knees and starts to cry, no longer able to keep herself from breaking down.

.

Fuck.

Fuck. Ryoma's thoughts cry in alarm as he jogged away; eyes wide in disbelief. His chest fills with self-disgust. He felt so out of himself. His knees felt so weak, as if he could topple over any second. His sweat was cold. His heart rate accelerated.

Shit. What was wrong with him? His eyes filled with water, wide open in shock, in horror.

Fuck. Fuck.

He could still see Sakuno's wide doe eyes, looking back at him wide with horror.

Without realizing, Ryoma had crossed the street, surprising the other pedestrians. The crossing light was lit red. And from the other end of the street, a car was speeding up. With his gaze turning at the last moment, Ryoma's eyes widen at the sight of the car about to hit him.

* * *

To be continued.


	9. Chapter Eight

Disclaimer: I do not own POT.

* * *

He was seated on the bench, hunched forward with his hands clasped against the other over his knees; clad in a dark blazer over a v-neck tee shirt and cream ankle-cut chinos; sharply dressed and as handsome as ever. Before him was an empty expanse of the outdoor red clay court reserved for him, funded for by donors he's never bothered to get to know; the contract having been just closed by his agent from a room inside one of the halls leading out of the stadium.

The group decided to drop by just for the heck of it after having had dinner in a five-star restaurant. Most of them were old men (technically just adult men – aka older than Ryoma men) in suits (and halfway through their meal – buzzed by expensive wines old men in suits); the only ones of which he knew were his agent and his father – who together, although annoying more than not, were the formidable duo that's helped him amass countless titles and even three of the four Grand Slam tournaments.

Cat-like eyes scanning the breadth dimly lit by moonlight and the back-up lamps scattered around, he thought it was odd – the silence. For the longest time, he's never had a second to himself. There would always either be someone's voice next to his ear or the rhythmic pok of a tennis ball. Now, in this vast enclosure, he was alone. It was a rather novel experience for a famous athlete such as himself (to be in a place where he once stood in the center of a few years ago, as the thirteen-year-old who took the tennis world by storm, basking in the tumultuous cheers and applause of over fourteen-thousand delirious spectators) – seeing the stadium dark, still and seemingly infinite; as if a foreboding of what was yet to come.

"You see it, seishounen?" His father's haughty voice comes entering from the doors behind with a laugh. A smirk forms on Ryoma's face as his gaze turns to his old man, eyes shining in challenge. "The day you'll finally beat me."

* * *

.

The Boy Who Stands Still

Chapter Eight

.

* * *

Everything was pitch black; eyes shut tight; brows furrowed – Ryoma was frozen, utterly still, waiting for an impact that never came. Ears ringing from the blaring, deafening horn of the car, the lightheaded, stricken young man opens his eyes and finds his hands on the hood of the vehicle. He couldn't believe it. The SUV had broken in an abrupt halt right in front of him. Raising his hands, shaking, trembling, he examines himself in disbelief – he was unscathed.

Inside the vehicle, the elderly man behind the wheel wore the same pale face. Then, a second of stunned disbelief passing, he quickly unlocked his seat belt and stepped out in a panic. His baggy eyes and wrinkled forehead creased in worry. "Are you all right?" The bespectacled man cried, eyes scrutinizing every inch of Ryoma; fearing he'd find a scratch, a bruise, a wound.

Still out of it, Ryoma tears his stunned eyes from his hands and faces the pedestrians casting confused looks over them. In front of him stands the driver whose expression was laced with concern. With a hoarse voice, soft, low, and out of breath, the unnerved young man shakes his head. "Sorry, oji-san." He apologizes. And, unable to take the weight of the judgmental gazes of the bystanders, he runs away. He runs without thought, without noticing the distance, without destination; that, in no time, he stumbles. His knees buckled on its own, unable to take the burden of the run. And, realizing in horror where he's ended up, his eyes fearfully gaze up familiar steps leading to a shrine, to a place he's long avoided; his sole, true reason for returning to Tokyo. An uneasiness in his gut erupts that he starts falling into a coughing fit, short of vomiting. His eyes sting with unshed tears. And cold sweat starts to run down his back.

With his spirit torn in half, Ryoma lifelessly staggers back home with unshed tears in his eyes. He heads straight to the living room, picking up a comforter from the pile of newly pressed clothes by the hallway, and lies on the cold floor; shaking, trembling as he wrapped himself in the warmth of his blanket.

Some time passed when Ryoma, groggy and feverish, is awoken by a gentle voice, by a warm hand touching his sweaty forehead. His lips were dry and his mouth, parched. Still, he manages to utter to the sillhouette, the figure hovering around him - "Don't, don't tell kaa-san."

.

It was sunset when Ryoma wakes up to an unfamiliar room, lightheaded and sore. The air was clear and a breeze blew in from an opened window, making the curtains dance gracefully with it. It was peaceful, quiet. And for a moment, the young man pauses and takes a full breath; a calmness filling him.

When he sits up, he surveys the room and finds a pitcher of water by his bedside. He takes a drink then get out of bed, brushing his grimy hair to the side as he walked to the closed door of the room. Carefully, he peers out and sees an unlit hallway; one vaguely familiar to him. And when he steps out, he realizes he was in the home of his former tennis coach.

His brows crease, loosely remembering his tennis coach back with him in his own home, urging him to come to her house so he can be looked after. He was so weak then, and could barely stand even with the help of Sumire. Shaking his head, his eyes dart around to check if the coast was clear. And as quiet as a cat, he makes his way out to the front door, not wanting to catch anyone's attention, not wanting to disturb the household. But, even before he could cross the living room, a voice stops him.

"You're awake." Sumire's tone was deep and hoarse. And her gaze was gentle. The old woman was seated in the darkness, nursing a cup of hot tea. The orange hue of the sunset grazed the outlines of the room, barely illuminating the immediate vicinity. "I cooked you some soup." She added eventually.

Ryoma sighed, shifting his weight back to the heel of his foot; disappointed at being caught before he had a chance to flee. "I'm not hungry." He softly said, not moving from where he stood in the shadows.

Then, the old woman gestured for him to join her where she sat. "Are you feeling better?"

Ryoma couldn't meet her gaze. "It's nothing."

At this, Sumire starts to chuckle, thinking exactly that was how the young man would respond. "Just because you're on a break, doesn't mean you shouldn't take care of yourself, kid."

"Hn." Ryoma nods, making a motion that he was about to stand and leave.

Then, his former coach suddenly tells him, "Your mother's asking when you'll come home."

Immediately, the Ryoma visibly froze. Then, his brows crease, defensive.

Cocking a disbelieving brow, he said in a sour tone. "You called her?" Then, he forced a cocky, aloof smirk, diverting the conversation with a laugh. "Did she want me to bring home some delicacy?" He said by way of a dry joke. Poor as it was, he was not blind to the tension in the room.

Ending her façade, dropping the forced smile on her lips, Sumire's tone was suddenly low and serious. "Let's cut the bullshit, boy."

Ryoma leans away, a sour taste filling his mouth. "Hn." He grunts lamely.

"What's happening to you, Ryoma?" Not knowing where to look, not at Sumire's vexed expression, not at the unlit kitchen behind them, not at the pictures of Sakuno at the corner – no, he turned to his hands still over the table. Seeing the familiar cover, he wondered how often he's been at the Ryuzaki residence. A visit more often than necessary, he decided. "Why haven't you returned home yet?" Sumire's voice was reprimanding and strong but Ryoma knew she was holding back, that she was being careful with him. Honestly, it irked him that she was being cautious around him, maybe, more so than feigning cheer.

Ryoma looked up at the old woman with the frown on her face and shook his head. "What is it you're really asking?" The young man bites.

The feisty old woman had to keep herself from scolding him for his blatant display of disrespect. Letting out a sigh, she said, "It never crossed my mind. But with every passing week, the longer you stayed, the clearer it became." Ryoma sat in trepidation, eyes darting to his old coach. His gaze trembled. His heart began to race; fearing she would say what he thinks she already is certain of. "Your mother told me you had business in town. But - you're back because of him, aren't you?"

Defensive, Ryoma almost stood on his seat, feeling cornered; cheeks flushed in anger, embarrassment. "How would you know—"

"He may have been a headache, a nutter; but, he's become one of my closest friends." Ryoma could hear his breath, anxiety kicking in; guilty at being caught. "If you came here to visit him, why haven't you? You can't keep stalling until the last minute. You can't just stay here and act like nothing's happened."

"I can't." He snaps.

Sumire's brows creased as the young man looked away heatedly, angry. His eyes were cast down, glaring. "Can't what?"

"I can't visit him. I'm—" He hesitated. "It's not enough. I mean, look at me."

The old woman almost laughed, understanding. "You're a silly boy." Sumire said with a sour taste in her mouth. "You won the Grand Slam. How much prouder do you need him to be?"

"You think it would help, but it doesn't." He said in exasperation, no longer looking at the old woman cupping her cold, half-drunk mug of coffee. "It's still empty. I still feel empty. That no matter what I do, no matter what I achieve, it will never reach him. None of it will ever be good enough."

"So, your solution is to keep yourself cooped up in your old home?" Ryoma looked up to scowl at her. "You have to wake up, Ryoma. The only way to get past this is to get it done. Don't just stand still boy. It's been weeks—"

"I'm here training Sakuno." Sumire's blood boiled. "I'm not floating, if that's your problem; so, get off my case!"

"BULL. SHIT!" Hands were slammed on the table. "–Sakuno's going to university. Tomoka's found work. Everyone in your year has something lined up. And you can't even decide when you're going home? Half of your endorsements are gone, your recruiters have dwindled in number, the press has even forgotten your name—"

Ryoma rose from his seat, his face red in anger. "I don't fucking care about the press!"

"—People think you've quit tennis, Ryoma! You! You of all people!" With no end in sight, Sumire continued to yell. "And don't you talk to me like that, boy! Don't lose everything you've worked for your whole life in less than a year!" Feeling her blood pressure rise, the old woman held back and took her seat. With a final look— the closest to empathy she's ever shown him, Sumire said. "You don't even train anymore."

"I don't need this!" Ryoma cries, angrily turning to the door when Sumire suddenly yells after him,

"You walk out that door and you really will be disappointing him!" Her voice hitches. Her face, red with fury. "If you're wondering what's left of him – all you need to do is look at the mirror!"

The room was deathly silent after. A pregnant pause seemed to pass, not a word uttered, not a gaze met.

"I don't know what you want from me." Ryoma suddenly speaks. His voice was soft, remorseful, biting. "I don't know what everyone fucking wants from me."

"Boy," The old woman said in a final plea, lips quirking, face softening. "I don't need anything from you. It's you who needs to do something for yourself."

Ryoma looked back at her, brows knit, eyes trembling in conflict; lost. Still, he nods in hallow promise, not himself knowing what she meant nor what it entailed.

When he leaves, when the door behind him closes, Ryoma makes it a point to turn to the side. There, he sees Sakuno step out from where she was eavesdropping, eyes stung with unshed tears in behalf of her friend, a heavy weight, tight against her chest. The bitter taste of guilt filling her mouth.

"I'm guessing you got an earful." Ryoma tells her with a dry tone. When she doesn't speak, he adds, "It's ridiculous, isn't it?" He said, his voice still cool, distant, apathetic - when he shouldn't be. "That even after two years, it seems I haven't moved on."

When she said nothing, Ryoma was ready to turn to leave, to let this day pass like all the others. But, before he knew it, Sakuno slowly approached him; cheeks reddening, eyes swelling - and fell into his surprised arms.

"Sakuno-" His voice choked, ears reddening.

"Ryoma-kun-" She stops, voice croaking, hoarse. With her lips trembling, unable to keep the tears from streaming down her cheeks, she tells him - she tries to, "I-I'm sorry. I'm sorry." She repeats to his ear, her embrace, her hold, tightening.

The guilt in her eyes, the remorse. He couldn't face her. Not now. Not like this. But - not knowing what to do to, Ryoma just held her in his arms. There was a suffocating tightness in his chest, a heavy weight he couldn't understand. As his eyes started to fill with tears, troublesome tears he couldn't just blink away; there came this warmth, this fullness, this peace as he melted into Sakuno's embrace.

After a while, the girl stilled and pulled away. She straightened up, looked up at Ryoma, and gave him a tearful smile.

Cheshire cat-like eyes widened at the sight of her, feeling awkward by the proximity between them, by the trust, honesty in the passing moment. He doesn't know what to expect that he barely hears her soft voice when she says simply, softly, and as a matter of fact, "I - I should have known."

Ryoma could hardly make out her expression even though she was merely a foot away. His breath caught in his throat. His mouth went dry. And his skin tingled. She was so close, he felt as though he was being pulled in. Lightheaded, he inches closer, the gap between them disappearing. The heat from her lips touching his. Then, when his eyes starts to shut, when the sensation in his chest was close to erupting, she speaks in a breath. And again, she takes his breath away with the tenderness of her gaze, with the sincerity behind her trembling smile. Behind her eyes, he could see his reflection, bare, his whole being, exposed.

In her eyes, there was only him.

And it scared him, how sincere, how genuine she was.

I love you. He could almost hear her say. Before that night, he never thought those words could so easily, so readily be said that – he doesn't realize – instead of Sakuno, this is how he felt about her; that it was he who was afraid of how raw it was; of how he could love her so much without caveat; with little to no reason.

And the thought haunts him; how willingly he had fallen, how blindly, how fully.

Later, when Ryoma walks downhill and turns to look back over his shoulder, under the light of the lamp post, he finds Sakuno seeing him off. He thinks she's always standing there, waiting for him, when she shouldn't even be. She didn't have to. The worry etched on her face, the sincerity in her gaze, he didn't deserve it. He didn't deserve her.

.

The next morning, as routine, they see each other in the courts. And after their session, with a steady expression on her face, with a firmness in her voice, Sakuno tells Ryoma with a small smile on her heart-shaped face, "I want you to stop coaching me."

At first, Ryoma is taken back, but nods along; understanding why.

Now, Sakuno hoped – her trembling doe-eyes, firm and unwavering as she gazed back into Ryoma's conflicted ones – he's lost one more excuse to hide behind.

As the handsome young man stood, stunned, he wondered when she's grown so resolute; how was it that someone so small could hold so much strength behind a simple look.

"All right." Ryoma finally spoke in a passing breath.

And, Sakuno repeats, lips quirking into a small, hopeful smile. "All right."

* * *

To be continued.


	10. Chapter Nine

Disclaimer: I do not own POT.

* * *

It was towards the end of her first year of high school when he finally called her out on it; frustrated by her foolishness, by her blind affection, by her brash rejection. The whole year, he's been repeatedly asking her out; confessing how difficult it's been since he realized he's fallen in love with her – with the girl universally known to be in love with Ryoma Echizen, that tennis star living half-way across the globe, their old schoolmate who has never set foot in Japan for over three years. By telling her she was being stupid for devoting all her time and affection to someone who barely knew she existed, who had merely touched a point in the timeline of her life, he knew he was branding himself to be the same – foolish, idiotic, utterly and blatantly stupid – for falling for her; for trying to make her fall for him.

He told her that she didn't know Ryoma; that her affections were based on a dreamt fantasy; that she was clueless as to what falling in love really meant.

To wit, she would reply with a choke in her shaky voice, stricken by the anger in his disposition – that he was wrong. She fell in love with Ryoma from the moment she met him, or that even if she didn't, she surely did eventually – fully and without reservation. The strength of his character, his aspirations, she admired all of him. She couldn't stop herself from thinking about him, day and night, from dawn till dusk. Ryoma had invaded whatever space she had left in her mind; and he unwittingly stole the void in her chest, filled it with nothing but thoughts, dreams of him. She couldn't help the cheer in her voice, the smile on her face, whenever someone would talk about him. If those weren't manifestations of her being in love with the tennis prodigy, then call her a fool, she challenged him amid glassy eyes, amid reddened cheeks.

Momo, although being the kind soul he is, vigorously shook his head and told her what falling in love really meant. It was being with someone day in and day out, not tiring from hearing her voice, not tiring from constantly being by her side – and eventually finding out that he liked it. It was looking forward to seeing her the next day even if she was still by his side at that very moment. It was to talking with her about absolutely anything – even of her unrequited feelings for a certain professional athlete. And it was realizing one day that something in him had changed; that, having spent time with her, that after having gotten to know her, he's made a habit of identifying her out of the crowd. It was confessing, laying himself bare, to a woman he knew to be in love with someone else.*

That was what falling in love meant, he said. "Falling in love meant standing in front of you, calling you out of your fantasies, and pleading to you – that even for just a second, you'll come to notice the guy who's in front of you."

At that point, Sakuno had gotten so confused, so pressured by the hurt expression in Momo's gaze, that she started crying. "Why— why are you even telling me this, senpai?"

"Because," He takes a breath. "You'll keep brushing off everyone coming your way until you realize this. It won't just be me, Sakuno-chan." Then, a self-pitying smile forms on his face. "It won't just be me who'll make the mistake of falling for you."

When Sakuno is unable to speak, he added soberly, with a chastising smirk. "The admiration you have for him is not the same as falling in love. It's something – but it isn't love."

After that incident, the young brunette couldn't face Momo. And before long, a different representative from the girl's tennis team was appointed to collaborate with the boy's team.

A few days later, they would receive the news of Nanjiroh Echizen's accident and subsequent death. Ryoma would come home for his father's funeral. And throughout this period of mourning, Sakuno comes to realize – as she watches the reserved, distant Ryoma from afar – that, maybe, Momo was right. Maybe, she wasn't in love with Ryoma; at least, not in the way she thought she was. That young man a few feet away from her was not the boy she once knew. He seemed far altered, much taller, more distant than the young man she'd imagine he'd be.

As time passed, in the change of school year, a new balance is struck and normalcy returns between her and Momo. Momo makes peace with his unrequited love. And Sakuno starts shedding off her lovesickness.

In the middle of her second year in high school, Sakuno went up to Momoshiro to apologize, to tell him that he was right all along; that she knew nothing about Ryoma other than that related to tennis; that, if being in love entailed knowing someone to a point, then, she was not in love with the boy wonder. Momoshiro would later tell her he is moving away to Nagoya for university. And, it was a few weeks before his high school graduation that he urges her to compete in the qualifying rounds of the Nara Women's Tournament.

She could still feel the hurt in his voice, could see it in his eyes – that even as he was smiling, enthusiastically telling her to put to test her improvement over the years, he was repressing what he was truly feeling. "Ne, senpai," She suddenly starts. And Momo quiets. "Didn't you get into Keio (a university in Tokyo)?" Then, she hesitates at his stillness. "Why are you going to university in Nagoya?"

Momoshiro only answers with a smile, an expression that told her all she needed to know.

A few weeks later, over the interval/school break bridging towards her last year in high school, she sends her application to the tournament, competes in the eliminations, and qualified for the finals. It was at the start of her third year, one day when she was returning home from afternoon practice, that Sakuno pushed open the door to her home and found the newly-branded sixteen-year-old Grand Slam title holder, Ryoma Echizen, sprawled on her living room couch. The handsome young man with the dashing smirk, with the boyish charm, raised a hand lazily in greeting while her grandmother laughed at the pale, confused expression on her face.

"Look what the cat dragged in." Her grandmother shakes her head, a grin on her face. Sakuno was at a loss of breath; tan from having been burned by the rays of the afternoon sun. "What do you say about Sakuno qualifying for the Nara Tournament, eh, kid?" Sumire turns with a proud smirk at an amused Ryoma, much to a befuddled Sakuno.

The professional athlete only smirks.

"Looking for a coach?"

* * *

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The Boy Who Stands Still

Chapter Nine

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* * *

It was early in the morning when Sakuno woke up to the pitter-pattering of the summer shower. Groggily propping herself up with her elbows, she rose from bed just enough to peer out of the window beside her. The downpour was light but continuous. With a sigh, Sakuno dropped back into bed and under her covers. Instead of her normal early morning routine, she conceded to practicing later on in the day; once the rain subsides.

.

It was passed noon when Sakuno steps out the washroom, having just had a shower. Turning her gaze out the window, she sees the downpour continue to fall. Drying her long auburn hair with her towel as she walked downstairs, she overhears her grandmother speaking on the phone.

"You don't need to worry, Rinko." She overhears her grandmother say; her tone, impatient. "He's no longer a child. He has to make the decision himself." Her grandmother paused, seemingly cut off by the person on the other end of the line. "Yes, yes." Sumire nodded in irritation. She glares to her side, to no one in particular, and accidentally meets Sakuno's nosy eyes. "You can count on me." She says, ending the call.

"Who was that on the phone, obaa-san?" Sakuno asks, trying to sound ignorant. Her grandmother only sends her a wary expression, purposely holding her tongue.

"Don't you have to train today?" Sumire chooses to say instead.

"Ah." Sakuno's brows raise and nods stiffly, hesitantly; remembering Ryoma, their conversation, their cut ties. "It's raining."

Sumire's gaze follows her granddaughter's, both looking to the outside, gray, dark, grim. Her severe expression, softening, "So it is."

.

A few streets over, in a residential home thrice in size of the Ryuzaki's, a young man steps out with an umbrella overhead. Behind him, he nods off to the feline watching him leave. "Stay out of trouble." Ryoma bids to his little furry troublemaker. And, shutting the door behind him, he leaves his home and starts down the same route he usually takes to the courts every morning. However, unlike every other day, he stops at the fork in the road; one leading to the courts and the other, down to the only place he really intended to visit when he returned. That afternoon, with only the light pitter-pattering of the rain to accompany him, Ryoma finally takes the road untraveled, down the other corner to where his father was laid to rest.

Climbing up endless steps to the shrine, then making his way down to the memorial grounds, Ryoma's sharp eyes widen at the sight of a familiar figure standing before his father's grave.

From down his father's tombstone, the same pair of striking Cheshire cat-like eyes turn up to him, absent the surprise; more stolid, cool, nonchalant.

"Aniki." Ryoma utters in astonishment.

In front of him, a smirk starts to light up his older brother's face, the ever elusive Ryoga Echizen. And, with a tilt of the head, his long-estranged brother greets him, subtly, coolly, coyly, "Chibisuke."

A long silence followed; the pitter-pattering of the rain finally subsiding.

* * *

To be continued.

* * *

*note that this applies to Ryoma throughout the story ! ahhhh in love but naive of it; in love but too young, childish, immature to appreciate it.

A/N: A short one, I know. Still, hope you liked it. I really love the bit before the title. I love the contrast of [who Sakuno has been and just how much Ryoma means to her] compared to [how much she's matured now; that amid how she feels, she is able to let go of him - for his sake]. It just really gets to me because it shows her growth and just how deeply she loves and cares for Ryoma. How many people can let go of the ones they love?

All her life, Sakuno has wanted nothing more but to build a relationship with Ryoma. She's been in love with him all her life. That's why she accepted his offer to train her. That's why she chooses to train with him over going out with her boyfriend, initially. That's why, she casts a blind eye to Ryoma's numerous faults. If there was even the slightest opportunity to latch on to whatever unsteady relationship she has managed to build with Ryoma this far, she would.

For anyone deeply in love, letting go is the hardest sacrifice. And she had to let go of Ryoma. He was unhealthily latching onto her as well, distracting himself from his own issues.

It seems like this story is far too mature for sixteen-year-olds – but, whatever. Haha!

Thanks for dropping by! Hope you leave a review.

KenRik.


	11. Chapter Ten

Disclaimer: I do not own POT.

* * *

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The Boy Who Stood Still

Chapter Ten

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* * *

They have been standing side by side, silent, motionless, that Ryoma steals a curious glance at his brother. The older young man's gaze never strayed from the tombstone in front of them. There were so many questions he wanted to ask him; what was he doing back in Tokyo? What has he been up to? What – Why was he here?

Still, it is Ryoga who suddenly asks, "Were you there?" His eyes meeting Ryoma's surprised ones. "When it happened."

At this, Ryoma stiffens, not knowing what to tell him.

"I was halfway across the globe when I heard about the accident. The next thing I knew, everyone was flying back to Tokyo for the funeral." Then, Ryoga pauses, remembering, "You had just placed in the French Open."

Ryoma's gaze drops, keeping silent.

"It still doesn't feel real to me – that the old man's gone." Ryoga smirks, but his gaze is low and his eyes are clouded. "It's like he's still out there somewhere, snickering, making fun of everyone he meets." Then, he pauses. "But, he isn't, is he? He's been gone for a while now."

"Hn." The boy only manages to grunt. Unable to keep his throat from locking.

"I'm sorry I wasn't there." Ryoga tells him, his voice lower.

"Don't be." Ryoma's voice was cold; aloof; distant. A wall he's managed to build to protect himself.

"But, I'm here now."

The young prodigy turns to his brother, confused.

"You asked me what I was doing back?" Ryoma's surprised expression was answer enough. "I'm here to give you an out."

"I don't—" Ryoga cuts him off.

"Come with me."

"What?"

Ryoga straightens and wears his leather jacket. "See the world with me. You'll be amazed with the talent stowed away from the camera."

For the first time, in a long long time, Ryoma feels a pull on his chest, a leap, a jolt akin to excitement.

"What?" Ryoma doesn't understand.

"A couple of friends and I are starting a campaign, touring countries, teaching tennis. You should join us."

"You're kidding." Ryoma tries to keep a straight mind, afraid to jump into conclusions, afraid to hope.

"I know what they did, what they've been doing." Ryoga tells him simply, quietly, sympathetically. "Cutting myself from the family was the best decision I've made."

Ryoma doesn't know what to say. But, he knew his brother was right. It seemed like it only happened yesterday, how they kept him from leaving the placement match, how they stole his father's last moments from him by keeping him in the dark. His father could only do so much, keeping them away from the main household; but the more successful he became in his career, the more they latched on.

It was clear as day, the bitterness he felt; how much of a fool he felt he was, standing in front of the matriarch of their family as she told him why they didn't pull him out of his matches to tell him his father got into an accident – how betrayed he felt, how guilty, how drained.

Then, at the corner of his blurry vision, shocked and brimming with unshed tears, confused, angry, broken – he sees his mother and the same loss in her eyes. It would only be the two of them now.

"I can't leave kaa-san." He answers, decided. "I can't just leave."

At this, Ryoga only smirks, turning to Ryoma with a knowing expression. "Why do you think it took me this long to get here?"

Ryoma's brows rises and he starts to smirk.

"If I know anything about our branch of the family, it's that every single one of us are flight risks." Ryoga chuckles. "Me with my team, dad with tennis, and –"

"Mom with dad." Then, Ryoma ends up laughing, finding it ridiculous, how much it all made sense.

It was then that Ryoga raises his hand, offering an open palm to his brother.

The tennis grand slam champion, the sixteen-year-old, the boy, standing still, takes a step forward and reaches out. "Then, I'll go." He takes his brother's hand, his grip, firm, resolute. And, with a curve, a small smirk on his lips, he tells his brother, "I'll go with you, aniki."

.

"So, this is where you kids have been training?" Says an amused voice from behind. In a graceful, fluid motion, Sakuno catches the neon tennis ball shooting back to her with her racket. Sweat dripping down the side of her heart-shaped face, she turns and looks over her shoulder, surprised doe-eyes widening.

"Obaa-san." She utters under her breath. Sakuno wipes the sweat on her face with her wrist band, averting her gaze from the consoling expression on her grandmother's face; wondering how it was that her grandmother could so easily read her. "What are you doing here?" She raises her eyes to meet Sumire's, forcing a smile.

"I didn't notice you left." Sumire tells her with a small smile.

Sakuno looks around, "The rain stopped."

"You're training alone now?" Her grandmother enters her court.

"Hm." Sakuno nods, approaching her parental. And, before she reaches her grandmother, her shoulders start to tremble, breaking into a light sob.

The old woman's expression softens. And, pausing, she tells her young ward, "How about a game with me?"

Sakuno only nods and continues to cry in her grandmother's arms. And Sumire is at a loss as to what to do.

"I just wanted –" Sakuno sobs, her voice muffled against her grandmother's embrace, "I just wanted to mean something to him – even if just a little. I want to be someone he'd want to see, a year from now, two years from now." She continues to cry. "And now," Her voice hitches. "He's leaving again."

Sumire's brows knot. "You don't know that." She consoles the child.

At this, Sakuno shakes her head fervently. "I know it, obaa-san." She sobs. "I know him."

Not knowing what to do, Sumire just stands there, trying to console Sakuno. And, unconsciously, she counts the number of times Ryoma has made her granddaughter cry; wondering if any of the child's tears were worth it.

Close to a week passes without any exchange between Ryoma and Sakuno. The life Ryoma left came back in full swing, fast-paced, no breaks, travelling all around Tokyo, then everywhere else in Japan, meeting with everyone, press conferences here and there. In less than a week, it didn't seem as if he went AWOL for a month. And Sakuno, she keeps to her routine, trying not to think of the gaping hole her trainer had left behind; trying to return to the status quo she achieved before Ryoma returned to her life.

* * *

To be continued.

* * *

Q: How did Ryoma know about Sakuno's achievements in the Nara Women's Tournament?

A: He visited the Ryuzaki household, looking to catch up with his Junior High tennis coach, Sumire just mentions it in passing while updating Ryoma of his teammates, of their friends back in the Junior High tennis arena. It was shown in the other chapter. Ryoma offered to coach her on a whim.

Q: Is this a Ryoma x Sakuno story or not?

A: It is.

.

A/N: I hope you're not surprised that Sakuno broke down. Throughout the story, it would seem like she is no longer in love with Ryoma; that everything is all right. But, by this point, she can no longer deny how deeply she felt for the boy wonder. It aches so much, having to let him go. The heartbreak, the fact that after all the time they've spent together, after everything that's happened between them - Sakuno knew, she still had no place in Ryoma's life.

I can't even begin to describe the searing, burning pain and regret she feels deep in her chest. And she wanted nothing but to rid herself of it. But she doesn't know how. And she fears she can never rid herself of it.

That's why she suddenly breaks down. She really tried hard to not let her be affected by Ryoma; tried her best to be strong unlike how she's been all this time.

In this chapter, we see that - while Ryoma is ready to move forward; our Sakuno is suffering from heartbreak. Poor baby Sakuno. :(


	12. Chapter Eleven

Disclaimer: I do not own POT.

* * *

When she prepares for the day, packing her gear along with her school things, her long wavy auburn hair damp over her shoulders, Sakuno wonders, as she zipped her bag close, as her eyes turned to the dark morning sky outside her bedroom window, when it started becoming mundane – waking to the dead of morning, rallying against a cold, stationary wall. She was certain, it never started out this way – her playing tennis. Now, while she felt no more trepidation nor anxiety, neither was there excitement nor anticipation. It all felt routine, dreary. And, she knew, she realized as she cried for the nth time over that coy, snarky classmate of hers, that boyishly handsome tennis prodigy, it was because of him again, because of Ryoma.

With a tired expression on her face, she slipped her bag over her shoulder and walked out into the open street, off to the tennis courts to practice for her last match, promising herself that she's done; that she's cried all the tears she would for the young man who felt so far differently from her.

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The Boy Who Stood Still

Chapter Eleven

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The air was cold, Sakuno thought as she sniffled; shaking her head, thinking she should've dried her hair before leaving home. Sighing, she pushed open the metal gate to her usual court. And, when she turns to the benches, she freezes where she stood, brows rising, eyes widening in disbelief. The young man in front of her stands almost instantly, his eyes registering the same shock, making Sakuno's brows knit in confusion, finding it odd he should be surprised to see her, in her usual court, at the time he knew she trained.

"It's been a while." He speaks in greeting, a lazy smirk lingering on his lips.

"Ah," Sakuno nods, blindsided. Then, eyes darting away, not knowing where to look, whether to meet his gaze, she says as her grip on her bag tightened, "I thought you were in Osaka." She needed time to get used to it – him suddenly appearing, then disappearing.

"I got back yesterday." He replies so coolly, so aloofly that Sakuno is unable to comprehend how he doesn't see it – how she was losing her mind, how she has been crying her heart over him. "Take one." He suddenly tells her, holding out two hot cans of tea.

"Ah," Sakuno mouths, surprised by the offer. "You didn't have to." She forces a weak smile.

"I know." The young man nods, cracking the lid of his drink open and taking a sip.

An empty silence ensues which unnerves Sakuno. She stood in front of him, motionless, awkward, waiting for him to speak, to give her an explanation as to why he was here – when he ought not to be, when he has chosen to leave. But Ryoma didn't. He simply stood in front of her, brows knitting for a second.

Unable to bear it, Sakuno tells him, her voice soft, in a stutter, "You— you don't have to check up on me." She starts to play with the drink in her hand. "I'm all right on my own."

Ryoma shakes his head, himself feeling foolish for walking all the way out to her when he had a late night and an early call later that morning.

"Then," Sakuno starts, trying to make sense of the young man's silence, "Did you need anything?" The look Ryoma sends her way makes her uneasy. A dread starts to fill her gut.

"You know I'm having a match tomorrow."

"Hai." Sakuno nods.

"I just wanted you to know," He pauses, "I'll be leaving for California after."

"Ah—" Sakuno doesn't understand the shock that ran through her, a cold rushing through her extremities, her fingers, numbing, her stomach, twisting. After all, she knew all this time he would leave. "I— um— You didn't have to come all this way just to tell me."

"I know." Then, the dashing young man finds himself smirking. "I wanted to."

Sakuno doesn't know how to take it, so, when they both fall into another moment of awkward silence, she starts to chuckle; thinking the tension, the unease between them was unnecessary, was ridiculous. Her gaze rises to find his. And, her hazel eyes meeting his, she realizes, she accepts, that, if anything, this past month, they've become friends. Good friends.

"I'm happy for you, Ryoma-kun." She tells him with her voice calm, sure, soft. The smile she wore was small but finally – genuine. She shouldn't hold it against him, she thought with a shake of her head, that he never felt the same way about her. "You've been working so hard."

Ryoma shakes his head, still with the same boyish smirk in his lips. "Don't." Then, he starts to laugh. "I barely did anything. All I did was laze around."

Sakuno's smile widens, "I wasn't any better," Her brows knit apologetically; then, ends up laughing.

Ryoma's brows rise, a small smile on his face. "What?" He asks lightly.

"I can't believe I said all those horrible things to you." Her smile sobers, and a cloud of remorse washes the light in her eyes.

"Don't be sorry." Ryoma shakes his head, himself in disbelief over everything that happened between them the past few weeks. "I was an ass."

At this, Sakuno starts to laugh. "I never said I was sorry." She corrected jokingly, surprising Ryoma, making him laugh along with her. Then, her laugh dies down. And her gaze settles in his. There is something behind her eyes, her expression; hidden far behind, contemplating whether to surface. "You must know," She suddenly says, holding her trembling hands in front of her, fingers intertwined. "You must know-" She repeats in a choke, the tone of her voice stifles Ryoma's chuckles, sobering him. "-How I feel about you."

When Ryoma is unable to give a reply, she continues with a dry laugh, at herself, her situation, her infatuation with the young man in front of her. "It's been torture being with you this past month." She starts to cry again. And, with it, she starts hating herself for her weakness in front of him. "But it's been worse being without you." Then, she calms down, and faces him, smiling, content, thinking at least, "We've become quite good friends, haven't we, Ryoma-kun?"

"Ah," Ryoma nods, his expression stiff, lost, unsure.

"And it only took us five years and a month." Sakuno adds, the glaze in her eyes settling. Then, she smiles at Ryoma, so beautifully that he starts to ease, eyes focusing on her, trying to hold onto the image, knowing this could very well be the last time they'd speak to each other for a long while. "We've both come a long way."

A pause fills their exchange. And Ryoma, with his gaze averted, could barely keep his throat from locking.

"Hm," Sakuno hums. "What," She stops, not really knowing what to ask of him now, "Do you know what you'll be doing now?"

"Ah." Ryoma nods. "I'll be-" He coughs. "-I'll be joining my brother." He takes a pause. And a small smile spreads on Sakuno's lips. "There's a skill -" Again, he tries to cough away the tightness in his throat, the water in his eyes, "-That only the game can teach, and he believes it's been reserved for the wealthy. I really don't know, so I guess I'll see where we're headed." Then, he stops, seeing a gleam in Sakuno's eyes, seeing the smile on her lips widen. "What is it?"

At this, Sakuno grins. And, her chest warm, her face glowing, she tells him with a lightness in her tone, with a glaze in her eyes. "You're just incredible, Ryoma-kun."

"I'm not. I—" His brows knit, cheeks flushing, lips curving, "I'm just a very good tennis player." Then, he gives her his trademark smirk and, pulls down brim of his white baseball cap, and holds his hand out to her. "Goodbye, Ryuzaki."

And, Sakuno smiles back, wholeheartedly, warmly, fully, taking his hand in hers, calloused and rough against hers. Then, much to Ryoma's surprise, she raises her arms over his neck and pulls him into a tender, warm embrace. And, he is lost in her scent, her touch, when she whispers into his ear in farewell, "Goodbye, Ryoma-kun."

* * *

To be continued.

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A/N: Could you please tell me if your throat is locking or tears are forming in your eyes? Because I am! Omygosh. I never knew I wrote this story so sad and heartbreaking. It's so heart-breaking-ly beautiful. I really love love LOVE this story.


	13. Chapter Twelve

Disclaimer: I do not own PoT.

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Sakuno looks ahead at the open court before her and like the few days that she's been training alone, she stands, takes her racket firm into her grasp, and walks to the center with no one behind to look after her. On the other end of the court, her opponent was dribbling the neon tennis ball, preparing for service. And Sakuno watches, sweaty palms on her racket, lips dry, and eyes stinging. Behind her, she hears a whistle blow and her body moves on its own.

When she takes the first point of the game, Sakuno keeps herself from looking over her shoulder, knowing fully well she'd find an empty bench. Instead, she closes her eyes, runs her wristband over her forehead, and breathes out. She purses her lips as she crouches and prepares for her opponent's service. Then, right as the neon tennis ball enters her side of the court, right as she smashes the ball back in record time, she decides that she would accomplish what she had started.

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The Boy Who Stands Still

Chapter Twelve  
The Last One.

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Sakuno misses the opponent's winning point. And, it takes her seconds to process what had happened. Even the screams in the crowd didn't aid her confusion. She looks around in a daze. The glaring light of the afternoon sun messed her vision.

It is the words of the umpire that wakes her up. "Game. Set. Match."

Sakuno sees her opponent hounded by her team, her fans, her support group. And for the first time during the match, her exhaustion hits her with an intensity that sends her falling on her knees. The girl's eyes brim with tears she thought to have simply been sweat. Her chest tightens and her lips starts to quiver.

Sakuno lets out an uneven breath, trying to calm herself.

She had lost. More than a month's worth of time, of blood-dripping effort washed down the drain. It couldn't end this way – without meaning, without result, without accomplishment. When her friends reached her, they comforted her. They told her she fought a great match, that she had inspired countless people, that she made them all proud, to which she cried even more into their embrace.

It was ridiculous, she thought, how badly she felt for something she never really believed she could achieve. But, she had come so far; she had come so close.

Later in the changing room, with her eyes puffy and her nose still red, she approached her opponent and apologized for not congratulating her in the court. The latter told her not to think about it, that she had never competed against someone as skilled as Sakuno, and that she would love to compete with her again in the near future. "It's just that - you were really incredible." The young athlete told her, her sun-kissed tan radiating off her face, "You made so many risky moves just to return my shots. At one point, I thought you would hit the pole of the tennis net." Both their eyes drift to the wound on Sakuno's otherwise untarnished legs.

With a bashful smile, Sakuno nods her head, still with the heat from the adrenaline, from the game with her. "It was a really good game." She holds out her hand.

"It really was." The tournament's champion shook hers with a wide grin on her face. "I'll see you in the next tournament."

At this, Sakuno starts to laugh, telling her new friend, "I'll be looking forward to it."

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Sakuno was resting in the shower room, draining the water from her long auburn hair when Tomoka found her. "Sakuno!" The latter cried, once again embracing her best friend so tightly it started to hurt her sore muscles.

"Tomo!" Sakuno laughs. "You're going to kill me."

"Sorry, sorry!" The boisterous young lady quickly lets her loose, laughing as well. "I hope you don't mind my saying, but I still can't believe it was you out there earlier! I had no idea how much you've improved!"

"I think," Sakuno smiles, "It's really different when you start believing in yourself."

At this, Tomoka's laugh sobers, and with a smile on her face, with a steady tone in her voice, she tells her friend fully, and without reservation, "I'm really proud of you, Sakuno." Then, her smile widens. "I really am."

"I—" The timid brunette starts to tear up. "Thank you, Tomo. You know—" She starts to choke up. "You know I wouldn't have come this far without you." Her smile starts to tremble. "I— I just wanted you to know –"

The gratitude washing in waves in Sakuno's gaze started to make Tomoka swell up. And, before she also started crying, turning the conversation to a lighter tone as she stole a glance away to wipe the tear forming in the corner of her eye, she says rather hastily, forcing a laugh "So, are we leaving or not?"

"Hai." Sakuno answers weakly, still lost of voice. She stands. And, as she packs up her bag, a thought pops into mind, suddenly remembering, "How was Ryoma-kun's game?"

Tomoka turns to her with her brows knit. "His game hasn't started." She laughs. Sakuno's brows furrow, unable to make sense of what Tomoka said. "It was delayed because of some scheduling issues with Nishikani Kei-san." She added, unable to keep her gaze from flickering to check her reflection on the mirror in front of her. The next thing she knew, when she looks back at her best friend, Sakuno was running out with her bag slung across her chest. Absolutely taken away with surprise, Tomoka was left to stand in awe as she watched the back of her friend disappear behind the door.

.

Sakuno doesn't know why she was running. All she knew was that she was running. Without a thought in mind, she ran down the steps of the escalator into the subway, quickly sticking her hand down the slip of her bag to pull out her commuter's pass. Where was she going? She asked herself as her eyes darted from signboard to signboard. She didn't mind she was short of breath. She just did it – run and run.

"I—" She almost slips when she makes an abrupt stop in front of a station attendant. "I need to get to Highland Park—" She takes a sharp inhale of breath. "Do— Which train do I take?" She asks the surprised woman.

Obliging, the attendant led her to a map of the subway. And, with a simple point of a finger, she traced the distance from where they were to where Sakuno wanted to be. "You'll have to take Bus 156 after going down the Kikufuji station."

"I— Thank you!" Sakuno nods quickly in understanding. Then, seeing train arrive, pushed her way pass the crowd and into the car. Back in the station, the helpful attendant could only look in confusion as she watched the girl take the wrong train.

When Sakuno arrives at the stadium, it's long been emptied. She could only blame her navigationally-challenged self for her idiocy. After having taken the wrong train, she was forced to ride the bus into traffic.

As she walked deeper into the arena, she found the staff clearing the area; stacking up the foldable outdoor chairs. She was horridly close to laughing at herself, how ridiculous she was. Exhausted and heartbroken, torn and guilty for having abruptly left her friends in exchange for an empty lot, Sakuno she falls to the wall behind her, slips down to her knees, and starts to cry.

That was it, was all she could think of. Everything in the past month was over. There was no more tournament. No more Ryoma. Before long, the past month would be what it was always supposed to be – a fleeting moment; a passing memory.

She wondered whether she could do it all over again – forget him, how he made her feel, how in love she was with him.

Her phone starts to buzz. With her spirit weak and broken, her cold hands, palms wet from wiping away the tears she couldn't keep from flowing, she pulls her mobile from her pocket and ignored the number of missed calls, of messages sent to her by her peers, her family, her supporters; and mechanically answers the call with a swipe of her finger. "Hai?" She croaks, her typically sweet voice was hoarse from sobbing.

"I just heard about the game. I – How are you doing?" The tone of his voice was so smooth, so casual, that he hasn't the vaguest idea he's rendered the girl on the other end of the line utterly astonished. "I watched it – a part of it; your game." He continues when he gets no reply. "You were pretty good." She could see the smirk that accompanied his tenor. "Where are you?"

It takes a second, a breath before she manages to whisper, her voice soft; the tears on her face drying. "Nowhere."

And, she almost smiles when Ryoma immediately replies, "Really? I thought Osakada would've taken you out to celebrate."

"There's nothing to celebrate." She tells him. "I lost."

"You're the first runner up." She starts to chuckle at the irritated tone of his voice. "Don't sell yourself short."

"I was just teasing you." Sakuno says weakly and laughs lightly at the sound of Ryoma sighing. A moment passed, neither knowing what more to say. Then, a quiet settles, a warm ease fills the void between them. "I'm sorry I missed your game."

"It's nothing." The deep voice on the other end replies. From where Ryoma stood, leaning against the wall, out of sight from the party mingling, celebrating in the events room, their laughter, their exchanges buzzing in excitement, holding on to the call he made, patiently waiting, hoping their conversation wouldn't end, wanting nothing more than to hear her voice, her laugh, as much as he could.

"How about you?" Came her soft voice. "Did you win?"

"Hn." He feels foolish when his heart starts to soar at the sound of Sakuno chuckling.

"I knew you would."

"Hm."

"Where are you?"

Ryoma looks around him. "Somewhere." He jokes, letting out a light laugh before shaking his head and telling her. "I'm at a party."

"Sounds fun." Sakuno smiles.

"Hn." The handsome young man shrugs, knowing fully well where he'd rather be.

Another moment passes that Sakuno has to ask, "Don't you have to go?"

Ryoma bows his head, shaking it, closing his eyes as he continued to hold his phone to his ear. "I don't." He tells her.

At this, Sakuno leans back and looks up at the orange sky. "Okay." She lets out a breath, a heaviness, a weight leaving her.

"Hmm." A lazy smirk touches his lips.

The moment passes with neither of them ending the call amid the absence of exchange, of speech. And it is only when Sakuno first speaks up, saying there was another call waiting on her phone that their conversation ends. When she drops the call, a bittersweet smile touches her lips, her eyes lingering at the blank screen of her phone.

* * *

END.

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Thank you for reading and for your reviews. As always, I will be putting up an epilogue.  
(Feel free to request for something you'd want to see in the epilogue, maybe answers to questions you may have.)

.note.

A number of you are surprised and indignant (maybe not) of the ending - saying they didn't end up together. But, the fact is, what is shown in the last few chapters is that they are in love with each other - and this is culminates with the realization (during this last scene, the phone call with neither of them hanging up) that they share this mutual attraction.

But, just because you're in love, doesn't mean you end up together. They're young (just sixteen/seventeen!). They have their lives ahead of them. For two highschoolers, especially a high-flying one like Ryoma who has a million adventures in store for him; and even for Sakuno who is going to another city for university, commitment is the last thing they want to burden the other with.

You see no confession, no great admission, because for one, Sakuno knows Ryoma is leaving and knows she never wants to burden him with the guilt of abandonment. And Ryoma, he respects Sakuno and the relationship she's built with her boyfriend. Add as well, the fact that he's resolute on his decision of leaving.

Getting into a relationship is not the end goal. Remember that with this comes commitment and the struggle to make the relationship work. It won't always just be sweet fluff. It will require a number of compromise neither are willing to make at the moment.

They do love each other though, maybe more than they realize. And this is a connection I will be highlighting in the epilogue. Besides, in this story, it's their personal struggles I grappled with, not their romance.

There is more to life than ending in a relationship. Aim high. Fall in love. Live.


	14. Epilogue

Disclaimer: I do not own the Prince of Tennis.

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The Boy Who Stood Still

Epilogue

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Sakuno was two years into university when she returns to her home in Tokyo for the summer break. Her auburn hair had grown back from having cut her long braids short at the jesting of her college roommate. Her bangs were longer and close to unnoticeable, tucked over her ear. On her left shoulder hung her cross-body bag while on the other was her duffle bag. She had come all the way from downtown, first meeting up with a group of high school friends in an impromptu breakfast reunion. Now, eyes rising, thanking her god for the safe journey, her lips curve at the welcome sight of the house of her grandmother.

Climbing the steps to their front door, she slips out of her white sneakers and sets down the heavy duffle bag. Carefully, she pushes her shoes aside with a socked-foot. Then, brows creasing, she notices a pair of men's trainers on the shoe rack. Shrugging, she continues into the den. And, her brows furrow and her lips part, in confusion, in disbelief, and, she starts to laugh to herself, in absolute amazement. Quietly, she makes her way to the figure fast asleep on the couch; his jet black hair cast astray, the back of his head resting on an arm, his clothes creased. This, Sakuno notes as she kneels down beside the sleeping figure, as she tenderly sweeps aside the hair over his face, was the same young man who she had last seen around three years ago; back in her life just like that. Honestly, her gaze softens, she'd long expected him to.

Not wanting to wake him, thinking he had probably just come in from a flight, Sakuno just sits on the floor, legs tucked, and her skirt riding up her thighs as she leaned back against the couch. Resting her head, she gazes up to the empty ceiling. The light over them was unlit; the entire room was illuminated by the morning rays seeping in through the windows. Looking around the room, she thinks that her grandmother had gone out.

Then, the young man behind her starts to shift. Turning her head, her bright hazel eyes widen, meeting Ryoma Echizen's gaze glossed from sleep, and she starts to smile. "Ryuzaki." He greets her by her last name as he always did. And, as a smirk forms on his handsome face, as he props himself up with an arm and starts leaning in closer, a weight starts to burden her chest and something deep in her gut starts to wrench; brows knitting in confusion at the growing proximity between them. "Okaerinasai." Ryoma whispers before he closes the gap between them in a chaste kiss; sweet, breath-taking.

And when he pulls away, the two young lovers out of breath, Sakuno says, with her eyes glossed, her lips red, her stomach in a twist, she manages to whisper against Ryoma's lips, a small smile on her face. "Ta-" Her breath shakes. "-Tadaima." And she starts to cry, yet again, in his embrace; thinking thankfully - _finally._

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END.

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Okaerinasai - Welcome home.  
Tadaima - I'm home.

A/N: Cards on the table, I am very unhappy with the execution of chapters nine to eleven. So, I will be revising. Also, I've proofed the earlier chapters. They're airtight now, I believe.

Thanks for sticking around. I really love this story! URGH. They're so in love I can't EVEN. :')

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Extras.

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"You're lying!" A boy exclaims, raising the tablet in his hold in disbelief. The other children around him also cried in awe, each trying to get hold of the gadget, to get a closer look at the picture it displayed.

From the courts, Ryoma was suspiciously eyeing the group of primary school students huddled around his older brother who did nothing but snicker. "Ryoma!" The girl he was training cried, stomping a foot, demanding his attention back before she made another service. The young man frowned, thinking to himself that, when he had first signed on with Ryoga, he had no idea how impossible children were.

"Just make your service, Nam." Ryoma tells the child.

"You weren't even looking!" The girl glares.

"Sorry, sorry." The young man was left with no choice but to apologize, although very much against his will. "Go on."

"Hmph." Nam eyed him before turning to make her service.

Then, another wave of laughter coming from the crowd of children made Ryoma look over with a raised brow. He swore, as the kids laughed, they were pointing to him. His gaze immediately shoots to Ryoga who only kept laughing. Unable to take it, the young man approached the group. And in an instant, the gang leader cried for them to disperse. The children ran away, leaving Ryoga laughing beside a a teary-eyed young girl; in her hands was the tablet.

"Brother," The girl's voice trembled as she turned to a confused Ryoma. "You have a girlfriend?"

At this, all the hair in Ryoma's body rose. And his face flushes almost instantly. "What?" He cried. Then, the girl showed him the picture on Ryoga's tablet - one of Sakuno in her lab gown, the image having been taken when she was in Hokkaido.

"You swore you would marry me!" The girl cried.

"I-What-" Ryoma stuttered, utterly blindsided.

"Ryoma!" His trainee back in the court yelled for him. "You said you'd watch me!"

Ryoma spun, looking over his shoulder back to the courts; "Yeah- I'm-"

"When's the wedding, teacher?!" The children chanted jokingly, each running around and continuing to snicker. "When's the wedding? When's the wedding?"

"What- I-" Ryoma's head spun, the world did. Then, before he fully lost his wits; his gaze falls to his cheekily grinning brother.

Defeated, the young man could only pray for the other members of the organization to fly in sooner rather than later.

* * *

end.


End file.
